


Home is [Wherever I'm With You]

by onefootonego (startingXI)



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Gen, cross posting from tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-18 04:36:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 55
Words: 62,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10609404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startingXI/pseuds/onefootonego
Summary: home, let me come home.[or: due to mildly popular request this is a collection of my filled and unconnected prompts from tumblr]





	1. the table of contents

**one:** table of contents 

**two:** sanvers + "My parents thought I was working for an insurance company in New York when really I was joining the CIA so I just sort of never mentioned when I met you on an assassination-gone-wrong and now we’ve been married for five years and they still don’t know you exist, this has gotten wildly out of hand and you won’t stop laughing about it." 

**three:** sanvers + “my friend is so determined to fix me up with somebody better than my string of casual coffee date/hookup partners that I didn’t have the heart to tell her, after she set us up for a blind date, that I actually met you six months ago." 

**four:** sanvers + "I didn’t think my parents could accept me dating somebody of your gender/race/religion/species, so we’ve been keeping it quiet, but now my mom can’t stop talking about her friend’s next-door neighbor and how perfect they’d be for me and you’ve got some nosy neighbor trying to set you up with their coworker’s kid and how do we tell them we’re engaged without making them think it’s because of their completely uninvited meddling."

 **five:** sanvers + "We see Maggie comforting Alex a lot in the show, but we don't see Alex taking on that role much. How does Alex help Maggie out when the truly shitty things Maggie sees at work every day get to be too much (or anytime she is upsetl/stressed)?"

 **six:** sanvers + “where did this dog come from?" 

**seven:** sanvers + “well shit, you're hotter than I was expecting." 

**eight:** sanvers + “this would be a lot easier if you sat still." 

**nine:** kara  & maggie + “why is there a corpse in the bathtub?" 

**ten:** sanvers + “learning/exploring casual intimacy” 

**eleven:** kara  & maggie + “I just found some of your Kara and Maggie stuff and I love it and I have a headcanon that Kara gets something from her Aunt or Mom like the hologram and she opens it with Maggie and Maggie comforts her because I love them both :)” 

**twelve:** director sanvers + “have you contributed to the nb!alex fic collection? if not, could you do one? if so, more is always good” 

**thirteen:** director sanvers + “Totally need Maggie being totally lovebombed by her ladies. 'Cause I imagine she's shit at letting people take care of her.” 

**fourteen:** director sanvers + “Sometimes they forget that Lucy's a soldier. No that's not it. Sometimes they forget that being a soldier isn't all about aliens and secret organisations. Sometimes it's about sand and scars. Sometimes it's about nightmares.” 

**fifteen:** director sanvers + “One of them comes home with a pet. (I can't think of anything better, but I really want more of these three nerds)” 

**sixteen:** director sanvers + “oh my god director sanvers is amazing. alex and lucy work together officially at the deo. maggie doesn't. it causes some tension” 

**seventeen:** director sanvers + “lucy is ticklish. alex/maggie enjoy taking advantage of this” 

**eighteen:** director sanvers + “(if you're still willing) Director Sanvers prompt: they're at the supermarket buying stuff and Lucy can't reach the top shelf so she calls Maggie cause she's not willing to admit to Alex how short she actually is, but then Maggie doesn't reach either. They end up calling Alex and she laughs so hard she snorts but also kisses her tiny gfs” 

**nineteen:** director danvers + “spooning” 

**twenty:** superspacefam + “Hi, I'm totally enjoying all these Director Sanvers stories. Thanks for writing them! If you don't mind a prompt, Director Sanvers and sparring or a fight scene against a group of enemies. :)” 

**twenty-one:** sanvers + “Prompt: Maggie comforting Alex through self harm/alcohol abuse (hella depressed rn and need something comforty)”

 **twenty-two:** sanvers + “one more chapter” 

**twenty-three:** sanvers + “it’s not heavy. i’m stronger than i look.” 

**twenty-four:** director sanvers + “there is enough room for the both of us.” 

**twenty-five:** director sanvers + “sit down, i’ll get it.” 

**twenty-six:** director sanvers + “Can you do director Sanvers with them having Alex restrained and maybe collared? Also, with praisekink Alex?” 

**twenty-seven:** director sanvers + “can i kiss you.” 

**twenty-eight:** director sanvers + “you’re important too.” 

**twenty-nine:** director sanvers + “stay there, i’m coming to get you.” 

**thirty:** director danvers + “you've broken my heart too many times, i just need anything director danvers where lucy is happy” 

**thirty-one:** kara  & maggie + “Kara and Maggie bonding over food. Like, maybe Kara describes how she experiences food to Maggie since she's so much more sensitive to the smell, texture, sound (ex. the crunch of a good crust or the barely audible sizzling of freshly cooked meat), and taste. Plus Maggie as kind of a food snob in that she doesn't eat just anything. We know she eats vegan and probably organic (up to you if it's due to dietary restrictions or a personal choice).” 

**thirty-two:** danvers sisters  & sanvers + “top five nb!alex danvers head canons” 

**thirty-three:** danvers sisters + “Kara and Alex go to the aquarium. There's this part of the building where one can walk under where they keep some of the more brightly colored fish or maybe fluorescent jellyfish and it's just a little awe-inspiring. Kara loves it. They have a special membership bc they're donators and they like going on quiet days where there aren't any crowds and they can just relax and quietly look at the fish. When they get tired of walking they sit in the auditorium and share popcorn while watching the film” 

**thirty-four:** director sanvers + “Yo. still want prompts? Most Director Sanvers out there everything is alex/maggie or alex/lucy (probably because lucy/mags haven't canonically interacted but.) Even when it's lucy/maggie they still bond over alex. I get it, Alex Danvers is the center of my universe too but the ship feels unbalanced bc people write them as a triad? So. More Maggie/Lucy time. As for the actual prompt? You like angst. Maybe they bond over their dads being the actual worst. Or they fight abt The West Wing. You pick.”

 **thirty-five:** director sanvers feat nb!alex danvers + “you are valid”

 **thirty-six:** director danvers + "“I can’t believe you’re it. From all the people- You can’t be. I hate you.” + Alex/Lucy"

 **thirty-seven:** danvers sisters  & maggie + "Kara + that fuzzy blue blanket"

 **thirty-eight:** director sanvers + "Lucy isn't due back from DC for another week and Alex and Maggie are having a quiet night in when they get the call. "So my baby sister turned up on my doorstep in full dress blues in the middle of the night and is currently barricaded in my bathroom having a panic attack. What the actual fuck." (aka you got me interested in Lucy and DC and I'd like to see Lois so lets say Metropolis is closer to DC than NC is)"

 **thirty-nine:** danvers sisters + "Hi there. Just wanted to say, I am thoroughly enjoying your PacRim AU, AND, I loved that ace!Kara story you wrote. Just curious if you anticipate writing any more of ace!kara? Or was that kind of a one-and-done deal? (Either way, your writing rocks, hope you have a good day!)"

 **forty:** director sanvers + "Lois gets kidnapped, Alex and Maggie can't find Lucy. Turns out she's at James's. They're used to waiting out these situations together and breakup or no some things remain. Lights dim, tv muted, booze and memories of every crisis they've survived."

 **forty-one:** sanvers + "Kinda craving some Alex and Maggie smut in the DEO. Like heated and rushing maybe?"

 **forty-two:** director sanvers + "How's about some college director Sanvers exam angst to get us through exam seasons? (Pls n thank)" 

**forty-three:** director sanvers  & kara + "Hi! Are you taking prompts? I had this idea about Alex and Lucy having a normal day at the DEO when a police car chase comes up on the news and they can tell that Maggie's patrol car is on the lead."

 **forty-four:** director sanvers + another part of touchstarved!lucy 'verse

 **forty-five:** director sanvers + "if you're still taking asks--director Sanvers and a bit more about Maggie and Lucy topping Alex together?"

 **forty-six:** sanvers + come back to bed

 **forty-seven:** sanvers + "don't step on broken glass"

 **forty-eight:** lena/kara + "oh my god you're in love with her"

 **forty-nine:** director sanvers + "have you slept"

 **fifty:** alex/lucy + "oh my god you're in love with her"

 **fifty-one:** Can you do Sanvers + "you're going to make it. Just stay awake" ?

 **fifty-two:** Sanvers and "Have you slept?" [post 2x19] 

**fifty-three:** kara/lena + "Hii!! Hey, could you do a fic with Kara x Lena + "How long have you been standing there?" ? Thanks!! :)" 

**fifty-four:** director sanvers + "Any lucy centric director Sanvers stuff floating around my good pal?"" 

**fifty-five:** director sanvers + "Please could we have some director sanvers + alcoholic Alex if you have a moment? I'm having a whole load of fun with these fucking cravings and really need some good ol comfort fic rn"


	2. sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My parents thought I was working for an insurance company in New York when really I was joining the CIA so I just sort of never mentioned when I met you on an assassination-gone-wrong and now we’ve been married for five years and they still don’t know you exist, this has gotten wildly out of hand and you won’t stop laughing about it" + Sanvers?

“you don’t know my mom.“ alex points out, gesturing with the index finger of a hand that’s currently wrapped around a fresh bottle of beer “she’d ask questions and want to know,” she gestures for a word “things.“ 

"things, danvers?” maggie says, from her perch on the kitchen counter, her face the picture of suppressed amusement. 

alex rolls her eyes “things sawyer.” she emphasizes “things like how we met. and how long have we been dating?” she pauses “you see why this is problematic." 

maggie is trying not to laugh "sure babe,” she says with a smile, going along with this “how we met,” she pauses, like she’s pondering “I assume you don’t want to open with ‘we spent three nights in a french prison together.’" 

alex deadpans "no, preferably not. hard to explain how an insurance agent ends up in a french prison." 

"accident?”

“all that cia training and all you can give me is ‘accident?’” alex asks, incredulous. 

but behind the bite maggie can sense alex’s nerves, they’re plain as day across the agents face, across her wife’s face. which brings them to the other question, 

how long have they been dating. 

maggie slips off the counter, landing light on her feet. she sets her own beer down and walks over to alex. alex who lets out a long sigh and doesn’t fight when maggie puts her freshly opened beer on the counter. 

alex tangles their fingers together, needing the comfort, needing the strength “i can always follow your lead.” maggie says gently, seeking alex’s eyes. 

it’s long seconds before alex can manage the eye contact “you don’t know my mom.” she says, parroting her phrase from before, but it’s all vulnerability spilling from her lips. 

“she’ll ask and she’ll poke,” alex huffs a breath “she could teach a course on interrogation. preferred venue, dinner table. preferred method, scathing and obvious disapproval.” alex lets out a long breath, continuing after a beat “’why can’t you be more like your sister.’ which, don’t get me started on how unfair that is. and she loves to bring up ’what happened to medical school alexandra.” it makes alex’s stomach tense just thinking about it.   
it’s frustrating really, that alex can face off against assassins and drug lords and the wolves of the shadow world without blinking. she can rack up a reputation that brings countries to it’s knees without even having a name. she can hack a government firewall in less than thirty seconds and she can reassemble an m16 with her eyes closed, but dinner with her mother? 

mission fucking impossible. 

“you’re amazing.” maggie whispers, shaking alex from her thoughts, from the downward spiral “and i know this dinner is important to you, I know your family is important to you, but we can walk out. at any time, you can call it." 

alex sighs, she pulls maggie closer, wraps her arms around maggies waist, just needing her close "i know she’ll never be proud of me.” alex whispers “she can’t be. and even if i could tell her, i still,” she shakes her head “i don’t even know if she would be proud of me then." 

"I’m proud of you.” maggie affirms quietly “and kara is proud of you. and i know it’s not the same as having your mom say those words, but babe,” maggie looks up at her “i’m not going anywhere. we’re married.” she reminds her. 

“another thing that will disappoint my mother.” alex sighs “’ _married, in secret, how could you. your father -’_ ” alex stops herself, her voice trembling. 

“alex,” maggie prompts gently “if we have to be dating, if we have to be dating and have to get married all over again, we can. we will.” she pauses, squeezing alex’s hand “you can let me propose this time." 

alex laughs softly, it’s watery, but there, a win "sure sawyer.” she says “you can propose this time." 

maggie rocks up onto her toes and kisses alex, kisses her slow, kisses her gently, hands slipping to the small of her back, giving alex all the comfort, all the presence she needs. 

"we’re going to be late.” alex whispers against maggie’s jaw, her voice saying for all the world she’d rather not go. 

“blame it on kara.” maggie says 

“can’t,” alex says “she’s in ireland, some rendezvous with an intelligence officer over there." 

maggie raises an eyebrow. alex rolls her eyes "don’t look at me like that."   
"i’m just saying,” maggie says, grabbing the car keys from the hook by the door, watching alex slip her gun into the waistband of her jeans “you and i have had plenty of rendezvous." 

"i swear sawyer say no more." 

maggie reaches into the home safe and pulls out her own gun, preferring the ankle holster for this particular weapon. weapon secure, maggie stands, wrapping her arm around alex’s waist and kissing her cheek "just pretend it’s minsk all over again." 

"we shot out way out of minsk." 

”don’t think about that part.“ 

"which part should i think about?" 

"the vacation we had in istanbul after." 

alex pulls their apartment door shut behind them, and hums, obviously remembering "don’t make promises you can’t keep.” she warns.

maggie looks at her from across the top of the car “when have i let you down?" 

alex smiles "never mags, never." 

"damn straight."


	3. sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanvers + "My friend is so determined to fix me up with somebody better than my string of casual coffee date/hookup partners that I didn’t have the heart to tell her, after she set us up for a blind date, that I actually met you six months ago”

in hindsight, maggie will blame m'gann almost entirely. but, she will never tell m'gann this because maggie is a good friend. not that maggie can consciously think that, she’s got a list a mile long filled with reasons as to why she doesn’t deserve a friend like m'gann.

because m'gann is actually a good friend.

m'gann, sick of seeing maggie come into the bar carrying varying shades of heartache, had decided to start setting her up. which mostly meant threats of setting her up and then m'gann declaring that

“no one in this stupid city is good enough for maggie, i swear.”

which maggie hears as

“you’ve dated through the queer population of national city, sorry you’re sol.”

until, of course, m'gann calls her one night with words like /“get your ass ready, i’ve got you a date.”/

which is enough to give maggie heart palpitations. if she’s being honest maggie never thought that m'gann would actually follow through on her threat of setting maggie up on a blind date.

and yet, here she is. with a time and a place outlined on her phone.

but this is m'ganns doing, so it’s not dinner and a movie - it’s two tickets to the national city moto expo sitting in maggie’s inbox. and the promise, straight from m'ganns mouth,

“i know we were going to go, but i’m donating my ticket to you. i promise alex is going to be just as into it as you will be.”

maggie just hopes that alex is genuinely into bikes and not, you know, pretend into bikes. because maggie booked this day off work months ago, and it’s not like she’ll ever admit that it’s probably the highlight of her entire year.

[but it is]

[she loves bikes.]

“so how do you know this,” she tests the name on her tongue “alex?”  
m'gann grins, standing behind the bar “you remember lucy?”  
does maggie remember lucy? please. maggie remembers lucy out shooting her four times in a row at the shooting range “sure, sure,” maggie nods, pretending that her mind didn’t jump immediately to a slightly bruised ego

“it’s one of her friends.” m'gann says, drying a pint glass with a fresh rag “not military, don’t worry.” m'gann says “i know you don’t do distance.”

“what do you know about her?”

“she’s hot.” m'gann says “like, really hot. and she’s got a degree in bio-engineering.”

maggie tries not to bite her lip, but this sounds promising.

and it is promising, promising enough that maggie is nervous. she changes outfits three times and she fusses with her hair until she calls m'gann in a anxious huff of “get over here i need to figure out what to wear.”

and m'gann is on the other end of the line, calm and steady /“go get the black boots you never wear. wear them with those black skinny jeans you wore with lucy to the range. and then that white top you wear when you want to look extra good, plus your leather jacket.”/

maggie stands there, blinking, “how long have you been expecting my call?”

/“all damn day sawyer.”/

“well,” maggie says, trying not to sound nervous “thanks.”

“/mags,”/ m'gann says /“relax, you’re going to have a great time.”/

maggie lets out a steadying breath “i know.” she glances at her watch “i’ve got to get going.”

/“just remember,”/ m'gann says

“if you say, be yourself m'gann…” maggie threatens

/“besides the fact that there is nothing wrong with that perfectly valid advice because you are a wonderful person and any girl would be lucky to have you, that’s not what i was going to say.”/

“what were you going to say?” maggie hazards.

/“i better get a souvenir.”/

“no shit.” maggie says

/“and you’d better invite me for lunch tomorrow and tell me all the details.”/  
“you got it.”

maggie doesn’t ride her bike to the expo.

but her date does.

she recognizes her date because maggie would recognize that particular custom ducati anywhere. not to mention the last time she saw that ducati and the rider of said bike, was particularly,

memorable.

explosions and gunfire and the rush of nearly dying temporarily incapacitating maggie and her ability to claim the crime scene before

“alex danvers.” she says, and she can’t help but smile “looks like you’re back in town.”

alex turns to look at her, looking nervous, looking gorgeous, looking exhausted “this morning.” she says.

[maggie remembers the first time they met, arguing at a crime scene, buying drinks working the case and then, well, kissing and a little bit more and alex shaking and saying she’s got to go, it’s work, it’s her sister.]

[‘easy danvers’ maggie had said ‘just, when you get back, call me’]

[for some reason, maggie had expected the phone call]

“i-” alex starts “i didn’t know this was a date.” she admits “lucy was going to come, with a friend of hers and then they both, mysteriously cancelled.”

maggie’s heart sinks.

“but,” alex says quickly, swallowing hard “it can be a date. i want it to be a date.”

“you don’t have to danvers, honestly.” maggie sighs and the more she looks at alex, the more her body aches and the more she realizes that alex looks like she’s about to collapse.

“no,” alex says “maggie, i want to. i want,” she stumbles, looking around at the people walking past them, “i want you.” she lets out a shaking breath and god,

six months ago they worked a case together, shared space, shared more. and alex had left, in the middle of the night, eyes wide with panic, pulse almost dangerously high, talking about earth-1 and her sister, and she was so, honestly, scared.

and maggie knows you can’t fake that.

“okay,” maggie says, feeling the paper of the tickets press into her back pocket, she nods “but, can i take you to lunch, or dinner.”

“maggie.”

“alex,” maggie says gently “you look like you’re about to pass out.”

“it’s been,” she lets out a long sigh “it’s been a long since months.”

“maybe you can tell me about it over some food.”

alex swallows, looks like she’s making a hard decision and then she nods, smiles, reaches out for maggie’s hand “what about the convention?”

“i’ve got the weekend pass.” maggie replies,

and then alex is kissing her. alex is kissing her hard and pulling her close.

when they break, it takes maggie a long moment to find her words and she can feel alex pulling away, inverting, thinking she went to far “i wanted to do that for six months.” alex says

“me too.” maggie replies.

“c'mon.” alex says “i’ve got a spare helmet. ”

and maggie thinks she might die right then and there.

“just one question,” she says, swallowing hard “how do we tell m'gann and lucy we already met?”

alex straddles the bike, looks over her shoulder at maggie “maybe we don’t. let them have the credit.”

“we’ll never hear the end of it.” maggie warns

“i feel like it might be worth it.” is the last thing maggie hears before there’s the roar of the engine, and her pulse jumps for oh so many reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's how it's going to work:
> 
> i've got thirty something prompts from my tumblr that i will be cross posting, so if you follow me there - this is nothing new. however i'm going to post one a day until i'm caught up.
> 
> [mostly because i'm lazy and don't want to format all these prompts all at once]
> 
> chapter titles will give the main pairing [also if it feat. nb!alex danvers - shown w/ nb!ad]
> 
> feel free to send me more prompts @ onefootone


	4. sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alex & maggie + I didn’t think my parents could accept me dating somebody of your gender/race/religion/species, so we’ve been keeping it quiet, but now my mom can’t stop talking about her friend’s next-door neighbor and how perfect they’d be for me and you’ve got some nosy neighbor trying to set you up with their coworker’s kid and how do we tell them we’re engaged without making them think it’s because of their completely uninvited meddling? (p.s. i like the drabbles you've been writing!)

“you could tell them you were locked in an elevator for hours and the only way to get out was for one of you to propose.” 

alex looks across the kitchen island at kara “helpful ideas please.” 

“she has a point.” maggie says, nodding in kara’s direction. 

“how?” alex asks, looking at maggie 

“no matter what, eliza and sharon are going to think they set us up.” 

“but we were dating for a month before they” alex pauses to add air quotes to the next part “’accidentally’ invited us both over for dinner.” she’s exasperated “this whole thing, you and me being engaged, it shouldn’t even be about their meddling.” alex sighs, wishing for drink. 

maggie reaches for alex’s hand “alex, look at me.” 

it takes alex a moment, but she does and maggies eyes are soft and deep and full of so much love “we know, and kara knows, and the people that matter, they know the truth.” she continues quickly even as alex opens her mouth to argue “and babe,” maggie reaches for her fiances hands “i know you love your mom. and i know she loves you. but i also know how she makes you feel, every time you come back from dinner, or get off the phone with her.” 

alex looks at the dent in the wall across from the sofa. 

“they’re going to think what they want to think.” kara says

“and it’s probably not going to be what we want,” maggie says 

“i’m going to tell her.” alex says, “the truth.” she says firmly “you’re, you, us,” she struggles to find the words “she’s not going to take credit for the best thing in my life. the best thing in my life that i did, despite her. she doesn’t get credit for us.” alex says 

maggie beams and kara smiles, but they’re both worried. 

and it goes about as well as expected. 

they barely make it to plating everyones food and sitting down before eliza says how happy she is that alex finally agreed to listen to her. and isn’t it wonderful that they’re going to get married. 

the temperature in the room drops at least ten degrees. kara sets down her fork, maggie reaches under the table and puts a hand on alex’s knee and she can feel how tense alex is. it’s obvious in her face 

“mom.” alex says “it’s not, you don’t get credit for us.” 

eliza practically scoffs “alexandra please,” 

“no” alex says “maggie and i, we were together before you invited us for dinner. for a month.” she says 

“so you lied to me? to sharon? have been lying this whole time?” 

“yeah,” alex’s voice cracks “because i - i was scared of how you would react.” 

“scared of how i would -, alex i’ve never heard anything so ridiculous.” eliza is saying and maggie is getting more and more tense because she can feel alex shaking, alex trying to fight for this “you think i’m some homophobe?” 

“mom that’s not,” 

“so what is it then? you think i’m a terrible person who couldn’t handle-” 

“dr. danvers.” maggie says at the same time kara is saying 

“eliza please.” 

and the table goes quiet, kara nods at maggie to speak and maggie feels everyones eyes on her, but all she cares about is the way alex is gripping her hand under the table “you don’t get to minimize how alex felt. or how she feels.” she says, trying to stay calm, stay respectful “you’ve never had to come out, you’ve never had to be terrified that you could lose your whole family because of who you love. i understand you’re hurt by how alex felt, and that we weren’t honest about when we met, but tonight, it’s supposed to celebrate the fact that alex and i are engaged. that your daughter asked me to marry her and i’m lucky enough that i get to spend the rest of my life with her.” 

maggie stops for breath, and alex squeezes her hand, kara foot bumps hers under the table “if you can’t just be happy that we’re happy, if you want to be angry at the fact that you didn’t get us together, then you don’t deserve to be a part of it.” 

maggie swallows hard “i lost my family, when they found out i was gay. and the last thing i want is for alex to lose hers, lose you, over something like how we met.” 

“maggie.” alex chokes, and maggie give eliza one last look, then turns to alex, she wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulls her close and doesn’t give a damn that they’re sitting at the dinner table. 

she can feel alex crying into her shoulder and maggie feels the need to protect her, because this is about them. what she doesn’t expect is eliza to say 

“you’re right.” and “it is foolish.” 

but it’s followed with “i need time to process that my daughter was lying to me.” and “perhaps you’d better go.” 

which makes maggie burn and alex cry harder. 

but it’s kara who speaks up “why can’t you ever just be happy for alex?” she asks “this isn’t, it’s not supposed to be about you at all. it’s supposed to be about the fact that alex and maggie going to getting married and them being in love and being happy and you can’t just be happy for them?” 

“kara, you don’t” alex says, but kara shakes her head, even though her eyes are bright and maggie knows how much it means for kara to speak up like this. 

“i do.” kara says “you’re my sister. you’re engaged, you deserve to be happy about it. you deserve to have eliza be happy for you, because,” and kara turns to eliza again “i know you love her. I know how much you love her. so please, just be happy for her.” 

there’s a long silence and kara prepares for the worst. she prepares for ‘we took you into our home and this is how you repay me’ but instead, it’s eliza nodding, it’s eliza saying

“okay.” and “i’m sorry alexandra.” 

and it’s not easy, after that. 

dinner is basically cold and maggie is still angry, but she has to let it go, because they do leave pretty soon after that. alex asks quietly into the curve of maggie’s neck, and kara hears and kara makes up an excuse for them and maggie knows kara is in for a long night, a long talking to, 

filled with ‘how could yous’ and ‘how dare yous’ 

but her concern is getting alex home, getting her to a space where she’s always loved, unconditionally loved. always. 

[it will be the day after when kara comes over and alex cries because kara tries to be diplomatic, but the night before she wasn’t, and all three of them know how much it meant] 

[it will be the week after when eliza invites them for dinner again] 

[and it will be at that dinner when she is happy for them, truly happy for them]


	5. sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (sorta a prompt, if you want to take it) We see Maggie comforting Alex a lot in the show, but we don't see Alex taking on that role much. How does Alex help Maggie out when the truly shitty things Maggie sees at work every day get to be too much (or anytime she is upsetl/stressed)?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: violence / tw: blood 
> 
> read responsibly.

it happens just after lunch. maggie’s out, she’s on the phone to alex in the half a second they both have to catch their breath during an otherwise crushing day. she’s half a block from the precinct because she can’t be damned to walk any further. not when the deli on the corner does the best sandwhiches and know maggie’s order before she even opens her mouth. she’s got her phone pressed against her shoulder, head tilted and handing over a twenty and mouthing an apology because it’s rude to be on your phone when you’re paying, but this is likely the only chance she and alex will have all day and then - 

and then there’s gunfire and maggie doesn’t even think. she doesn’t have time. her first instinct, her gut reaction is to drop her phone, her wallet, everything and move towards the danger. she’s got her service weapon out, her and a dozen other cops in the immediate area - but maggie is faster. 

she’s outside, she’s in the street looking at a black sedan shoot around a corner, tires squealing, windows fully tinted. it’s just out of eyesight to get a plate, but right now that’s not maggie’s fullest concern. right now it’s the kid laying on the curb and the mother bending over him, kneeling next to him screaming, crying, too frantic to do anything steadily. 

again, a dozen cops but maggie is the first to move, the first to react. she applies pressure, she eyes a rookie she knows by name and gets them radioing for an ambulance. maggie is the one gritting her teeth and feeling this kid’s blood run over her hands and knowing, just knowing, 

it’s not going to be enough. 

maggie is the one who steps back only after the paramedics arrive. maggie is the one who gives a statement, who’s in a daze realizing she’s got blood on her everything and that all of a sudden it’s six pm. she’s not sure where the day went. she’s not even sure if she’s going to be able to get home. 

or, she could, and she will, but her hands, her hands, they’re sticky with dried blood she can’t seem to clean off. it’s in the creases of her palms and embedded in the sides of her nails and between her fingers. she’s rubbed her hands raw and still, 

still she feels like her hands, her forearms, her clothes are covered in blood. that kids blood 

at some point her partner walks over to her, puts a hand on her shoulder, guides her to her desk, gets her to sit down. they might say words, maggie registers 

‘wait’ and ‘calling’ and ‘she’ll be here soon’ 

so of course she thinks of alex. and maggie thinks of the gunshots and not even hanging up and not even explaining and now it’s been all day and maggie’s stomach twists because surely, surely alex is going to be so mad. 

the thoughts rabbit in maggie’s mind, a distraction from the blood until they come full circle and she ends up having to resist the urge to try and wash her hands again. she knows the whole station is dazed, sometimes violence just happens, and sometimes it’s the fourth in a string of terrible things that make maggie wonder why, why, she does this job at all. 

but then there’s a soft voice, a familiar voice and maggie jumps because it feels like she blinks and alex is kneeling in front of her. 

[how did maggie get to the locker room? how did alex?] 

“mags,” alex is saying, her voice gentle, gentle, gentle “babe,” she’s seeking eye contact, her eyes deep and worried “let’s get you home.” she’s saying, waiting until maggie gives her a exhausted nod. 

alex has a hand around maggie’s waist, keeping her close, keeping her near, because alex knows that maggie’s legs are unstable and she knows that maggie isn’t fully aware and she knows, she knows. 

it’s why she took a car from the deo pool. it’s why she guides maggie into the passenger seat and does her buckle for her. it’s why when she clambers into the drivers side she reaches across and puts her hand on maggie’s thigh. and it’s why she doesn’t press when maggie barely moves her hand, only lets her pink twitch, and cross over alex’s index finger. 

they’re halfway home when maggie realizes that she’s in a car, that alex didn’t bring her bike. maggie thinks about the paperwork, she thinks about the traffic alex is going to have to deal with to get to work tomorrow. she thinks about having to find parking tonight. it’s too much work, so much work and she doesn’t deserve it. 

she didn’t even call to let alex know she was okay. she didn’t even call. 

maggie must fall asleep because what she realizes next is that they’re parked and it’s dark and alex is kneeling with the passenger side door open and she’s saying quietly, gently, gently “we’re home.” and “do you want me to carry you?” 

and god, maggie is so exhausted she nods before her brain can think of a reason to say no. so alex is putting her arm under maggie’s knees and another around her shoulders and and lifting her like she weighs nothing. maggie hears alex close the door with what must be a kick, double lock the door with the keys that must be in a hand somewhere. 

but maggie doesn’t care, she can’t. she turns her head into alex’s neck, losing herself in the familiarity, in the comfort and tries not to think about the blood on her hands, that must be getting onto alex’s hands, her pants, her jacket. alex carries her up, up, up and maggie realizes then where alex brought her. not to her own apartment, 

but to alex’s. 

the bed that maggie always sleeps best in. with the bathtub that maggie will never admit she loves, but does. with the windows and the soft city breeze through the perpetually open balcony doors. 

alex brought her home. 

and home smells of food. it smells of maggie’s favourite vegan place and maggie finds herself being laid out on the bed gently, gently, and alex is kissing her forehead gently, gently saying “stay here,” and “i’m going to turn the bath on.” and “i’ll be right back.” 

but maggie finds alex’s hand and grips her, the world feels a little bit clearer away from the precinct, away from the scene of the crime, “m’sorry.” maggie mumbles, because she has to say it, because she didn’t call. she didn’t tell alex she was okay. 

maggie feels the bed dip, feels alex’s hand in hers and she sees the concern shining in alex’s eyes where she expects anger. 

“what are you sorry for?” alex asks, thumbs running circles across the flat of maggies hands. 

“i didn’t call.” maggie says “i didn’t tell you-” she pauses, fumbles and alex picks up where she left off. 

“you were working.” alex says softly “you saved a little boys life.” 

maggie blinks at her, confused “the boy-?” she starts 

“he lived mags.” alex says quietly, there’s a smile at the edges of her lips “because of you.” 

maggie lets out a long, long breath. she still feels fuzzy, dazed. there’s so much bad in the world, but that - 

that’s a good thing. 

that’s a thing she did. 

“let’s get you in the bath.” alex says and she stands for a moment, gauging maggie’s reaction and maggie nods, adjusts on the pillows, closes her eyes and tries not to think about the blood. 

the bath, when it’s ready, is steaming and warm and alex takes maggie’s clothes off layer by layer. she asks for permission when her hands hit the hem of maggie’s grey t-shirt, when her fingers are at the belt buckle of maggie’s jeans. she apologizes when her fingers, too cold, too cold, skate across maggie’s skin, undoing her bra. 

but maggie doesn’t care. 

her senses are so full of alex. alex. and not blood. not gunfire. not anger, or death or dying. just, alex. 

and it’s alex who sinks her into the warm water, and it’s alex who stays when maggie asks, the single word cracking in the hollow of the bathroom. it’s alex who slips behind maggie, pulling her close, and it’s alex who let’s maggie cry right there. 

was it ever going to be anyone but alex, who heard gunshots on the other end of the line and felt her heart stop; who asked kara to make sure that maggie was okay, that she was alive, that she wasn’t hurt. was alex ever going to do anything but leave the deo practically at once when she gets a call from maggie’s partner. 

[she’s okay, she’s not hurt. but she needs you.] 

and when maggie is all cried out and the water is cooling, it’s alex who washes her hair gently, gently. kissing maggies neck and massaging her scalp as tenderly as she possibly can until the waters far too cool. alex doesn’t criticize or comment when she sees maggie’s hands rubbed raw, trying to get rid of blood that’s long since been washed away. she just finds the moisturizer, she rubs it into maggie’s hands once she’s wrapped maggie in the softest towel. 

and somewhere in all of this maggie starts to come back to herself. as if she’s stepping through a haze that first broke when she heard the little boy had lived.

but she’s not all the way back, there’s still fog cresting the hills and maggie - who once would have feared losing herself amongst it - trusts alex to keep her safe. she pulls on a pair of boxers alex bought her, and settles herself in alex’s oldest and warmest and comfiest standford hoodie. 

her voice cracks when she steps out of the bathroom, sees alex reheating two plates of food and says “you didn’t have to.” 

alex turns and smiles and walks over to her and says “kara did.” 

[and of course kara did. of course kara was eager, willing to help]

maggie doesn’t each much, sitting on the couch tangled up with alex. she lets alex pick and choose and stab vegetables onto a fork because alex wants to make sure that maggie eats something. eats a little. she never pushes, not tonight, it’s not a night for words. 

not maggie’s word anyway. 

it’s a night for being in bed and crying in the darkness, maggie’s face pressed into alex’s shoulder, alex’s hand running up and down maggies back, soothing her, soothing her and maggie being overwhelmed because she’s never had this before. 

never had someone who cares so, so much. 

through it all alex whispers, she tells maggie how loved she is, how important she is, how safe she is, how perfect. 

so when maggie falls asleep, finally, finally, she expects her alarm to go off. she expect to feel alex shifting and getting ready for the day. what maggie doesn’t expect is to wake up with the sun streaming into alex’s apartment, into home, and for the sounds of the city to be well and truly there and alex to reading a medical journal with one hand and stroking maggies back with the other. 

“your captain gave you the day off.” alex says gently, gently, because she can tell maggie’s head is still a little fuzzy “i’m not going in.” 

and maggie nearly cries because she didn’t expect that, or the softness, or the way alex cards her hands through maggie’s hair when maggie buries her face in alex’s neck. she was utterly unprepared. 

the day ahead is full of quiet things. they shower, together, and maggie notices the bloody clothes are soaking in a bucket of cold water. when alex notices maggie staring she puts a hand on the small of her back, she kisses her gently, gently and promises they’ll be as good as new. 

maggie believes her. 

maggie smiles for the first time in a day when kara comes stumbling through the window with lunch from maggie’s absolutely favorite place in iowa city, and alex’s absolutely favourite place in chicago. but kara can’t stay and she leaves in a flurry, but not before giving maggie a just right hug that lingers for just the right amount of time. 

that night, when maggie’s appetite is back and they’re eating leftovers from across the country, she finds alex’s hand and she kisses alex’s knuckles and she says “thank you.”

alex leans across says “always.” and kisses her - and the kiss is slightly spicy because alex is working on her heat tolerance in food, and it makes maggie smile and it makes her warm and happy and safe and loved. 

[tomorrow, when she goes back into work, she checks the deli first. they have her phone, her wallet and a customized card that gives her free sandwhiches for life]


	6. sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> from the prompt "where did this dog come from?"

alex half expects the answer to her question “where did this dog come from?” 

to be, “space.” because this is her life after all and space is just as likely an answer as 

“the poor little guy was curled up, shivering under my bike cover.” 

which is what maggie actually says, sitting on the couch with a jack russell terrier curled up in a fluffy towel, in her lap. 

“he was so cold and wet and it’s storming outside babe, i couldn’t just leave him.” 

and alex has a vision of maggie on her bike, with a dog resting in one of the saddlebags she bought for their longer trips and alex is acutely away, right then and there, that is dog is staying with them. 

even as maggie is saying “he’s not chipped and he doesn’t have a collar, but we can take him to the shelter tomorrow, i know we don’t have time-” 

but she stops because she realizes alex hasn’t said anything yet, and alex is walking across the room and sinking onto the couch, watching with eyes that practically light up as the dog sniffs her hand and the traipses happily, sleeping into her lap. 

“we can make the time.” alex says “between you and me, and kara and everyone else,” alex shrugs, smiling, because she knows maggie wants this dog, and alex finds that she wants ths dog. 

she imagines coming from a long day of aliens and violence and emotions and having maggie and this furball to cuddle. she pictures maggie not being alone at night when the deo is keeping alex away from their bed. and she pictures herself not being alone at night when the ncpd science division has maggie working herself into the ground.

so yeah, maggie is beaming and reaching across the scratch the as of yet unnamed dog behind the ears, and alex is shifting and curling against maggie and her only question is 

“so what are we going to call him?”


	7. sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sanvers + "well shit, you're hotter than i was expecting"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from an undercover stripper!alex au i'll never write

“you’ve got a client, special request - in the back, room three.” 

alex tries her best not to shudder, she hates this she really does. every step she takes towards room three is a moment she spends preparing herself for some old, white, wrinkly, entitied man, who will want to put his hands on her hips, and will allude to 

“payin’ for a little bit extra there darlin’” 

but this op depends on alex not killing anyone just yet. 

so she pushes into room three, entirely prepared for the worst, and instead, she walks in and 

it is certainly not an old white dude. 

not by a long shot. 

sitting, sprawled in a chair with an air of confidence - dressed in a suit that makes alex’s heart stop and alex shouldn’t be staring but the way the woman’s hair is falling in graceful, somehow incredibly perfect, gentle curls - alex’s mouth goes dry. 

“just the lap dance.” the woman is saying, and something is working in alex’s mind becasue that phrase is important the one the woman says next is too “i like the music a little bit too loud.” 

and god, j’onn had told her the deo was partnering with the ncpd, and sure alex had known she would make contact here at the club, but this - the woman before her, this being her partner. alex’s mouth is still so very dry. 

she reaches for a remote and flips on the music, turning it up level by level until the woman in the chair nods, and well, alex knows there are cameras and she knows they need to be covert - 

so she starts dancing, moving her hips and closing her eyes and waiting what feels like an appropriate amount of time before bending forward and awhispering right into the woman’s ear “ **well shit** ” she says “ **you’re hotter than i was expecting.”** she pauses “it’s sawyer isn’t it.” 

and alex can see the way maggie’s hand twitch, like she wants to touch, and a low laugh rumbles deep in sawyers chest, so alex obliges, she grinds her hips just that much closer and nods maggie on “go ahead,” she says “you’re paying for private.” 

“jesus christ danvers.” sawyer says, and alex thinks that maybe her earlier comment is going both ways “you can call me maggie.” sawyer says 

“you can call me alex.” alex whispers, her lips brushing maggie’s ear and from this point it’s easy to see the way maggie reacts to this. 

and maybe, alex thinks,  this op won’t be so terrible after all. 


	8. sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sanvers + this would be a lot easier if you sat still.

they’re in the deo medical bay. the windows are opaque, the door is locked and alex’s hands are _shaking._  she’s got maggie in there, laid out on an exam table with a black eye, a split lip, a long cut across her collarbone that alex has decided needs at least four stitches, plus bruised ribs, two broken fingers and a sprained ankle. 

“alex” maggie is saying quietly, trying to catch her girlfriends attention because even with her back to maggie, maggie can still see that alex is barely holding it together “alex, can you look at me?” she keeps her voice steady and tries not to let too much pain steep into the syllables. 

alex does, slowly, or at least she turns around, but she can’t quite look at maggie. nevertheless, maggie asks, quietly, quietly “are you mad at me?” 

the crux is alex wants to say yes. she wants to say yes because what maggie did was wreckless and stupid and downright dangerous. but at the same time, it was brave and selfless and exactly what alex would have done. also, alex took down a terrorist organization with what boiled down to a couple of bombs and a backpack, so she doesn’t get to critique anyone’s judgement. 

but maggie isn’t just anyone. 

maggie is, 

she’s alex’s _everything._

so alex does not say yes, instead, she bites her lip and looks up and she says “no, no,” she shakes her head “of course not, how could i be?” 

maggie replies quietly, telling it how she sees it because if there’s one thing she’s learned it’s that she doesn’t need to hide her emotions around alex “because you can barely look at me.” she says “and your hands are _shaking.”_

she watches alex take a deep breath, watches alex clench her fists and then relax them and she watches alex work up the nerve to say it is whatever she’s about to - 

and then alex says it. 

“you -” she starts “you knew you couldn’t beat that alien.” she says “but you jumped in anyway.” 

“someone had to buy kara - supergirl, some time.” maggie says “you weren’t around.” she smiles sadly “i’ve taken worse beatings than this, danvers.” 

but alex’s eyes are shining and her hands have stopped shaking and alex knows in this moment that she loves maggie sawyer “it was so stupid.” alex says, voice watery “you could have gotten killed.” 

“but i wasn’t.” maggie reminds her, reaching out to take one of alex’s hands gently “luckily i’ve got an in with supergirl.” 

alex rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling because maggie took a beating for kara, maggie put herself in harms way to keep kara safe, give her a few extra seconds to regain herself. 

it’s exactly what alex would have done. 

“thank you.” alex says, and she knows maggie doesn’t miss the deeper meaning in what she’s saying. 

maggie smiles and squeezes alex’s hand, but regrets it at once, wincing “broken fingers.” alex reminds her, grabbing the last of what she’s going to need to stitch maggie back together. 

“got it.” maggie nods, adjusting in her seat, trying to find the best position for her aching ribs. 

but it’s hard with alex this close, with alex with her tongue between her teeth in concentration, cleaning out maggie’s wound and all the while maggie shifts and winces and tries not to gasp. 

“ **this would be a lot easier if you sat still.”** alex points out, after the third time maggie shifts and almost gets herself poked with a very sharp needle. 

“sorry, sorry,” maggie says, gritting her teeth “remind me of this next time i decide to fight a eight foot tall alien,” 

“that’s what you said last time,” alex reminds her gently, perfecting her stitches “and look where we are.” 


	9. kara & maggie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sanvers (sorta kinda not really) + "why is there a corpse in the bathtub"

maggie’s night off starts with a phone call. from kara, and the words, said with a trembling voice “ _maggie, i think i killed someone.”_

maggie has literally just stepped out of the police station, she is technically off the clock - if there is really such a thing - so what she says next is a little unexpected and little unnerving even for her “stay calm little danvers, i’ll help you hide the body.” 

now, maggie says this for two reasons 

one: if kara killed someone - which is a big if as far as maggie is concerned, the girl can’t even kill mosquitos - the deo needs to be involved. kara is supergirl and calling in the ncpd, even the good folk of the science division, is not exactly something that maggie wants to do. yet. maggie is a cop after all, but she needs to judge the scene, judge if someone is actually dead and if it’s alien and, and, and her head is spinning as she climbs onto her bike. 

two: this is kara. and kara probably called her first, and is probably scared and anxious and the last thing kara needs is to get hauled in for questioning for a murder. if there is a murder. 

“ _what?”_ kara is saying, and “ _you’re a cop”_  and “ _shouldn’t you be arresting me.”_

which is a valid point, but all maggie can think to do is ask “are you safe?” and say “stay where you are, i’ll be there in ten.” 

so as it is, maggie isn’t acting exactly like a police officer right now, but she’s ready to. is this the morally grey area she hates the deo for having, yes. but that’s not to say the ncpd exists in stark black and white. 

maggie parks her bike in front of kara’s building and she runs up the stairs, yes she runs as fast as she can. by the time she gets to kara’s floor, her legs are burning, her lungs are defintely not pleased with her, but maggie doesn’t care. 

she steps onto the landing and walks to kara’s door, seeing the way it sits uneven on it’s hingers. maggie nudges it open with a booted toe, stepping inside and hearing her feet crunch on broken glass. she surveys the scene and _shit_ kara’s apartment is a disaster. the coffee table is shattered, her fridge is sideways on the floor, her couch is upturned, dining table chairs are askew and in the middle of it all, hands wrapped around her waist, shaking, visibly full body trembling, is kara. 

her head snaps when when maggie steps in, eyes wide, eyes glassy - she doesn’t look hurt. not physically anyway. 

“hey,” maggie says, keeping her voice as soft and as low as she can - kara’s got that look on her face she wears when the world is a little bit too much, one hand is fiddling with the rim of her glasses and she’s still shaking “kara, are you hurt?” 

that’s her first concern, make sure kara isn’t physcially going to bleed out, isn’t broken anywhere. 

“no.” she says her voice soft, her voice uneven “i’m - i’m fine.” 

maggie walks over and stands in front of kara, assessing, surveying, seeing the massive hole in the wall where kara must have physically thrown the man who seems to be askew in her bathtub. 

“i’m going to check him out, okay?” maggie says “and then we’re going to talk.” 

she tries to keep her voice as calm as she can, but her brain is screaming that she needs to call the deo. that this is probably a case of self defense - this is kara, that she wouldn’t out and out murder anyone. but still, maggie is a cop, she’s seen worse things happen. she walks into the bathroom, to the man slumped face forward into the bathtub. she walks over and is relieved when she doesn’t see blood. she’s relieved when she presses her fingers against his neck and finds a pulse. 

okay. 

no one’s dead. 

she pulls out her phone and takes a photo, sends it to j’onn with the message - _kara’s apartment. she’s fine. he’s not._

and of course she gets a phone call seconds later wherein it’s j’onn asking **“** _ **why is there a corpse in the bathtub**?” _  

“it’s not a corpse.” maggie replies “he’s just unconscious. kara called me, she’s okay, i’m going to talk to her, but it’s a miracle no one called the cops. her place is wrecked, it was some fight.” 

a voice from behind her makes maggie jump “he was already here when i got home.” kara says, standing in the doorway, still with her arms wrapped tight around her waist, it doesn’t look like she’s breathing “is he dead?” 

maggie hangs up the phone, knowing j’onn will understand, and slips the phone into her back pocket. for good measure she pulls off her cuffs, 

[noticing the way kara’s eyes go wide and she shakes that much harder] 

and cuffs the guys hands behind his back, adjusting him in the tub so he’s slightly more comfortable, but also less able to move, cuffed as he is. 

“no,” maggie says, putting a hand on kara’s elbow and guiding her away from there “he’s just unconscious.” 

she wants to get kara to sit, but there isn’t really anywhere to sit, so maggie finds the window, finds a patch of evening sun, and stands there “can you tell me what happened?” she asks, a hand still on kara’s. 

“he was behind the door, when i got home. he -” her voice is shaking “he surprised me.” she says, “i-” 

kara’s eyes are squeezed shut and maggie can tell the recollection is working her up again “kara,” maggie says softly “kara you’re safe. he can’t hurt you. he can’t hurt you. you’re safe.” 

“but i hurt him.” kara replies “he attacked me, he had a kryptonite blade, he, i had to, i had to make him stop or he was going to kill me.” kara says all at once, all in a rush. 

maggie turns, keeping a hand on kara, keeping her grounded, and spies the krpytonite blade. in all honesty, it’s a relief, to see it there, half under the wrecked couch. it verifies kara’s story. 

moments later, the door is pushed open and it’s not j’onn who runs in, but alex. 

her eyes are wide, she’s out of breath, her hair windswept and the panicked look in her eyes is enough to tell maggie that alex has none of the details and all of the questions. and all of the worry. 

“kara,” alex breaths, looking around, crossing the room in three strides “kara what happened? are you hurt?” 

as soon as alex takes kara up into her arms, the little control, the little togetherness, that kara had left, dissolves. her grip turns to steel around maggie’s hand, but maggie bites back her wince. she puts a hand on alex’s low back, alex who looks up at her, eyes wide, eyes worried. 

“i called the deo.” maggie says “he’s not dead.” she says “this is going to be okay.” 

she doesn’t know if it will be, someone attacked kara in one of the few safe spaces she had left, and maggie doesn’t know who he worked for, or where he came from. what she does know is that whoever’s behind this will be very, very sorry. 

alex blew up cadmus because they took her father. 

maggie can only imagine what she, what winn and and james and j’onn, and hell, even she will do for coming after kara like this. 

like cowards. 

[alex breaks someone’s arm. guardian stops three people from killing any of them. winn takes out the entire electricity grid for lord technologies. and maggie arrests maxwell lord for conspiracy to commit murder] 

[that, is a good day. emotional, of course. but a good day] 


	10. sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sanvers + exploring casual intimacy

at at first maggie is startled because alex’s hand on the low of her back as alex reaches above and in front of maggie for a couple of coffee mugs is harmless. it was innocent, it wasn’t intended to start anything, 

but maggie can’t stop thinking about it. the whole day, it sits there in the corner for her mind, a happy reminder that maggie can’t quite compartmentalize. 

and then it happens again, but this time she’s cooking dinner and she’s trying sauce with a growing series of spoons and all of a sudden alex is saying “babe turn this way” and is swiping her thumb along maggie’s jaw and maggie is struck, because alex wiping stray sauce from her face is so, so, casual. but it feels so deliberate, it feels like alex could have done any of a hundred things, but she _chose_  to put her hand on maggie’s hip and she _chose_ to lean in close and she _chose_ to use her thumb and maggie just doesn’t know what to do with all those choices. 

it makes her feel silly,

the fact that alex doing something like catching her hand and pulling it into her lap when they’re out in the bar, or wrapping an arm around maggie’s shoulders and tugging maggie into her side at movie night, or running her fingers through maggie’s hair when they try to catch up on the voice, or, or, or 

maggie can go on and on, because maggie remembers all of the little ways alex danvers touches her. not just the ones that set her skin, her core, her very being on fire - but the little ways, the little ways that maggie is so sure alex doesn’t even notice she does until -

“you smile,” alex says, when the question finally crawls its way across maggies face “just your eyes,” she pauses, trying to explain it “you light up. when i do something like this,” and they’re strolling down the road, towards nowhere in particular as alex laces her fingers with maggies “and i like to make you smile.” 

and maggie swears she falls in love right there, in that moment - realizing that every touch was a testimate to what alex felt, feels, without alex demanding anything in return. 

[but maggie gave alex all of herself, all of her heart, because she knew there were no safer hands] 


	11. kara & maggie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just found some of your Kara and Maggie stuff and I love it and I have a headcanon that Kara gets something from her Aunt or Mom like the hologram and she opens it with Maggie and Maggie comforts her because I love them both :)

alex is working late, buried deep in some experiment she and winn have been running, so maggie is at home. maggie is at alex’s, because that’s home, because she wants to be here when - if - alex comes home tonight. she wants to be able to make her sometime to eat and coax her into a shower and into bed, even if they only get a few hours together, to lay and sleep and exist in the quiet. maggie wants to be here for that, for alex, for them. 

so she’s curled up on the couch, defintely not wearing one of alex’s hoodies, and defintely not with a mug of coffee perched on the coffee table. she’s got the balcony doors open, not because she expects kara, but because it’s habit, because alex feels better knowing that kara can come in.

[after they talked about boundaries and when and navigated through a tricky period that maggie felt guilty for inflicting] 

so the balcony door is open and maggie is happy to sit and read and listen to the sounds of a city she’s coming to love filter up, filter in. there’s a light breeze that’s all of a sudden a little bit stronger and maggie looks up without worry, without reaching for her gun because she knows who’s here. she folds the corner of her book and sets it down, looking up and seeing kara - in full supergirl regalia - walking in. she looks stressed, and she looks like she’s trying to hide it. 

yet it shows, seeping into her shoulders and the way she clenches and unclenches her hands. maggie sees it in the way kara can’t bring herself to speak, reaching for the space where her glasses out be, trying to use the motion to buy her some time. 

“what’s up?” maggie asks, swinging around so she’s sitting on the edge of the sofa, looking up, looking over at kara “alex is -” 

“at the deo.” kara says quickly “i know.” 

kara refuses to look directly at maggie, but her hands are playing at the hem of supergirls suit and she looks, well, the longer maggie watches, the more that kara looks 

devestated. 

so maggie stands and maggie walks over and she tries to remember all the ways that alex helps kara. but maggie also tries to remember that kara came to her when she could have gone to alex. so maggie is just trying to breathe and focus on giving kara what she needs, whatever that may be. 

“let get you out of this.” she says gently, nodding to the suit. 

kara doesn’t fight it, she stands so still, so quiet as maggie unclips the cape, folds it like she’s seen alex do. and she promises to be back, disappearing up to the closet, grabbing what she knows is absolutely kara’s clothes. she turns away as kara changes, but it’s not enough to miss that as kara sheds supergirls skin, she starts to shake. 

and by the time kara has changed, she looks shaken - is shaking. her hands are wrapped around her waist and shes fumbling with glasses that she’s pulled from nowhere and maggie has to ask “are you hurt?” 

because even though kara doesn’t look it, she’s alien and she’s strong and maggie cares, so she asks. 

“no.” kara says quietly. 

“okay,” maggie says, walking over to kara, noticing how kara seems to lean towards maggie before she’s even stopped moving, before she’s even wrapped an arm around kara’s shoulders and is steering her towards the couch “what’s going on?” maggie asks as gently as she can. 

kara keeps her gaze fixed out a window, her face flickering with a different kind of sadness. it’s a sadness maggie hasn’t seen on kara’s face before, but one she recognizes all to well. she doesn’t press, doesn’t demand answers, she just gives kara the time, whatever time she needs to work out whata’s going on in her head. maggie can see it, see it in the way that kara’s hands twitch, like she wants to reach for her glasses, or mindlessly play with something. she sees it in the way kara take a deep, deep breath before she says 

“i- i have this hologram of my mom.” she says, speaking towards the city, her city “from my ship. alex, she fixed it. set it up so i could talk to her. get answers about aliens, about,” she pauses, stumbles over her words “about some stuff.” 

maggie can feel that kara is building up to something, something that makes maggie’s chest ache and makes her want to hug kara, pull her close - but she doesn’t, not yet. kara needs to breathe, needs to be able to speak like maggie isn’t here. 

“i told her, tried to tell her,” she pauses “about, you know, me. and -” kara’s breath catches in her chest and what she says next comes out a little higher pitched and a little less stable “and she didn’t,” kara shakes her head “she didn’t get it.” 

kara’s eyes are wide and they’re shining and maggie reaches out and puts a hand on kara’s knee because kara is still trying to get it all out and maggie can tell the words are there but they’re stuck in throat and _maggie knows._ so she is patient and she moves her hand from kara’s knee to kara’s back when kara starts taking shallow, hiccup breaths. 

“i just, i know that she’s not really my mom, that she’s just a computer and a projection, but i wanted - i wanted to tell her. i -” her voice is shaking and maggie, maggie gets it, maggie knows “i wanted to tell her.” kara repeats. 

“and it didn’t go well.” maggie supplies in kara’s silence, she doens’t need to be a detective so figure out how this all ended, how it’s all ending. 

[kara with tears sliding down her face and maggie finally caving and pulling kara into her arms because it’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair] 

“everything i’ve done,” kara says, speaking with muffled words into maggie’s shoulder sometime later, sprawled across the detective “everything i’ve done has been to try and live up to what _they_ told me i had to be. protect kal, protect earth.” she leans, tilts so stormy blue eyes meet maggies and  maggie’s heart breaks because she know’s what’s coming next. 

“and this,” kara says “my, my,” maggie feels kara forcing herself to say the words, say them with a measure of pride, because this is who she is, “my sexuality,” she finally says “it’s for me. it’s not-” she pauses and kara looks away, she shakes her head because she doesn’t have the words any more. 

instead, she’s crying again and clutching at maggie who remembers being fifteen and just wanting to be accepted. she remembers being sixteen and seventeen and hoping that her parents would come around. she feels kara’s pain, the pain of having parents who can’t come around - can’t or won’t because maggie knows the hologram is some sort of artificial intelligence, but still, still, 

no one deserves to be rejected. not when it comes to who they love and what they do or don’t want to do in the bedroom. 

[maggie remembers kara coming out to her as ace, spluttering with questions on her lips and worry in her eyes, but melting into maggie’s arms when maggie told her that it was okay, that it was more than okay, that she was loved] 

so maggie pulls kara closer and kisses her temple and she lets kara cry into her - alex’s - shirt becasue god, what she wouldn’t have given to have this in the hours after she was kicked out. 

[she got it at her cousins, when she could finally speak the truth of what happened, weeks later] 

but this is kara’s raw reaction to some form of rejection, denial of her true self and maggie knows how much it hurts. she knows how much it feels like you’re being torn in two and how much you wish to be anything else, to be normal. 

so maggie gets it. and she happily, happily let’s kara cry herself to sleep, curled up, sprawled across her on the couch. and she reads her book with one hand and texts alex with the other because kara’s going to need her big sister in the morning. she’s got one right now, that much maggie promises - carding her fingers through kara’s hair - but having two never hurt. 


	12. director sanvers - nb!alex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> director sanvers: have you contributed to the nb!alex fic collection? if not, could you do one? if so, more is always good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a really tough one to write, not for bad reasons but for personal ones given my own recent revelations. that said, this is a heavy piece, lots of angst and hurt so take note of that. nb!alex is a dear favorite of mine so thank you for this prompt.

there’s a period of time between coming out to lucy and maggie - 

 _where your hands were shaking, your heartbeat was rabbit fast, your stomach was in knots upon knots, and you were so utterly, totally convinced that your world was about to come crashing down around your ears_ - 

and telling eliza. 

 _because even the mere thought of telling your mother anything involving a desire for they/them pronouns and maybe cutting your hair and having to explain how you’re not quite a girl, but you’re not quite a boy and maybe the grey space between the binary genders is where you’re happiest_ - 

makes you ill. it makes you physically ill and god, you’re supposed to be going to lunch with your mother. you’re supposed to be meeting her and kara for lunch at noonans - but you can’t, you can’t, _you can’t._  

so you’re scrambling for your phone and texting kara that it’s work, that you’re not going to make it, that you can’t possibly meet eliza for lunch and kara knows, kara gets it, but kara and eliza are already on their way. 

then you’re calling lucy. you’ve dialed her number before you even realize it and she’s picking up before you have a chance to hang up. and she’s hearing your strangled breathing before you have a chance to explain this away as a butt dial. 

she’s asking “alex, what’s wrong?” 

and you can’t, you can’t, _you can’t._

so your answer is less actual words and more another choked off sob and setting the phone down because you’re going to be sick and even though it’s just dry heaving into the toilet, 

you can’t. 

your mind is going over every disappointed look, sigh or vocalisation your mother has ever given you. and it makes you want to vomit, but it also makes you want a _drink._

“i can’t do it.” you choke, “i can’t do it, i can’t face her. i-” you’re rambling, and now that you’ve thought about it, the drink is the only thing on your mind. 

a drink to dull this panic.

a drink to slow your racing heart. 

a drink to follows those, and another after that. and, and, and. 

“and they’re coming, she’s coming.” you’re stuttering and sobbing and your veins are aching for the familiar fire bourbon brings, but you’re trying to be good and you’re trying to be better. 

but you can’t, you can’t, _you can’t._

but then it’s lucy voice cutting through your panic and your haze and her words are soft and her words are gentle and she’s saying “you’re so brave.” and “i’m on my way, okay?” and “you don’t have to go anywhere, you don’t have to go out.” 

and you can hear her keys sliding off a wooden desk and you know it’ll be twenty minutes tops until lucy’s here. and you can fight it for twenty minutes, you can do it, you can resist the urge to find that drink you want so bad. 

you can. 

you can because lucy must have her bluetooth in and you can hear her walking and you can hear her keys in one hand and opening a door with the other, and all the while she’s speaking to you “you’re so brave alex, for calling, and for knowing you don’t want to go.” 

[because there’s a time you would have gone anyway, that you would have subjected yourself to eliza’s torment, and as much bourbon as you could get away with] 

“you’re so loved, you know that? you’re so loved for being exactly who you are.” 

which makes you sob harder, and it makes your stomach twist more violently because that’s - those are exactly the things you want from eliza, they’re exactly the things you’re so sure she’s never, ever going to say. 

because you’re her _daughter._ she’s always so proud of her _daughters._ and what could be worse than having her biggest disappoint of a daughter tell her that she’s not even a girl? 

“i can’t-” you’re choking again and then your blood runs cold because that is kara’s voice you hear, kara speaking a little too loudly perhaps, kara trying to warn you the best way she knows how because with kara 

is eliza. 

with kara, who is - from the sounds of it - reluctantly opening your apartment door. who is stepping inside and you’ve had less than ten seconds to scramble to your feet, to press yourself against the bathroom wall and think - literally biting back tears - 

how pathetic you must be. how pathetic this is what your life is. hiding from your mother because you’d rather her love the idea of you, then not love who you really are. and you’ve hung up on lucy because you can’t be found, you can’t be found and then - 

“alexandra-” 

it’s your mothers voice and its the name that makes bile rise in your throat and it’s kara’s voice saying 

“alex isn’t here.” 

but her words are getting louder and kara is pushing open the bathroom door and you’ve never felt more pathetic, or more scared than in that moment. because kara sees you and her eyes go wide and you know she’s registered your panic from the moment she heard your heartbeat, but seeing you wild eyed and scared like this is something else entirely. 

but she can’t stay. 

she can’t reach out and pull you into a hug. 

she can’t tell you that it’s going to be okay, that you’re loved. 

she has to pretend that she hasn’t seen you. and it kills her. you see it in her eyes as she steps back, as she says “alex has a work thing, like i said.” 

and you’ll realize that how deliberate kara was in never misgendering you. even as your mother mutters, too loudly, too loudly “she never seems to know when to say no to that job, what about us, don’t we matter to her?” 

and you flinch at every single pronoun, not breathing until the front door is shut and you can sink to the floor with your head pressed against your knees. your phone falls to the tiled floor with a sound loud enough to send terror into your heart because surely eliza heard that, surely she’s going to come storming back in here and find you - 

“lucy, hey,” comes kara’s relieved voice, and then eliza 

“if you’re looking for alex, she’s not home.” 

and lucy replies, sounding a little breathless, but not at all flustered “nope, just looking for a couple of shirts i think i left here.” 

and kara replies “check in the bathroom, i think i saw them on the towel rack.” 

which is a lie and you know it’s a lie because the towel rack has towels on it, but that’s not the point. it’s not the point because when you hear your front door open 

[after some half chastising comment from your mother about lucy and the deo never letting you take a break] 

when your front door opens, it’s closed just as softly and then the bathroom door is opening and for half a second you’re so, so sure that it’s eliza and you jump, 

you flinch away from the door, from the person. 

but, 

“it’s me, it’s me.” lucy is saying, lucy is soothing. and lucy has come straight from work, she’s in her uniform and her heels and she’s kicking them off to crouch down to your level, to put a hand on your shoulder and another under your chin until you met her gaze. 

and when you do, 

when she pulls you into the tightest hug, 

you break. because what you see when you look into lucy lane’s eyes is the same thing you see when you look into maggie sawyers - 

unyielding love. 

love for exactly who you are, as you are. 

you’re crying into lucy’s shoulder and her hands are on your back and she’s sitting next to you on the tiled bathroom floor, with her back pressed against the bathtub and you curled next to her, into her. lucy is stroking your hair and saying quiet, lovely, impossible things 

“you are so loved.” 

“you are so beautiful.”

“you’re amazing and perfect.” 

and when her phone rings, it’s maggie’s name on the screen, and a photo of her from the bar where she’s smiling and it makes you so warm because that’s her smile for you and for lucy. 

and lucy answers on the second ring, she’s saying “yeah, i’m here, i’m with them.” and “no, i know babe, they know.” and then a phone is being pressed against your ear and maggie’s voice is gentle and you hear the worry present there 

“hey al,” she says “i don’t have much time, i gotta go back into this seminar, but I love you.” and you can hear the guilt at being trapped in metropolis, you can only imagine that kara texted her, or lucy called her - or both “and lucy loves you and we’re so proud of you.” 

and you wish you had a better response than crying into lucy’s shoulder and hearing maggie say “i gotta get back in, but i love you. i’m back tomorrow. i love you.” 

and then it’s just you and lucy and you’re crying again because what you wouldn’t give to just, not be this. and you wounldn’t be such a disappointment, such a wreck - pulling lucy away from work, pulling maggie out of her conference, the one she’s speaking at, worrying kara. 

you wish you weren’t like this. 

but you are, 

and some days you love who you are. 

but on the days you can’t, 

you’re surrounded by people who can. who love you unconditionally and always and no matter what. 


	13. director sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Totally need Maggie being totally lovebombed by her ladies. 'Cause I imagine she's shit at letting people take care of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> weee, this was fun! a lil angsty because this is me, but also maggie getting looked after and never being quite ready for it. enjoy!

maggie gets shot. which in itself is not a huge deal, not since lucy essentially kidnapped both her girls and whisked them away to get fitted for state of art, best on the market, bullet proof vests. 

[’what about you luce’

something in lucy’s eyes flickers and she makes a comment about washington and the only person who might shoot her there, is herself - if she has to deal with any more old, privileged white men telling her how to do her job] 

so maggie gets shot and it hurts like a motherfucker, but she’s not actually injured. she carries out the rest of her shift, reminding herself to pick up something for lucy because still, she got shot. and she’s alive. 

it’s the latter that maggie figures is important, so when she comes home and sees lucy standing by the dining room table looking down at a spread of papers, maggie doesn’t say 

‘oh i was shot’

when lucy asks “how was your shift?” 

instead, she says “it was good, busy. you know how it gets around the full moon. plus some rookie went and called the day quiet, so after that it all went to hell.” 

but still, she doesn’t mention getting shot. she doesn’t think it matters, not really. 

which is why, when maggie is peeling off layers and setting them down onto alex’s, their,  bed, lucy’s startled gasp sends her into high alert. she’s turning around and fumbling for her weapon - which is not at her hip - asking “what’s wrong?” before she realizes that she’s what’s caught lucy’s attention. 

or rather, the giant bruise that wateroclours down and across her ribs, already deep and nasty shades of purples and blacks and 

“what happened?” lucy asks, moving away from her work, and towards maggie with concern etched into her face. 

“uh,” maggie starts, because she knows they’re going to be mad at her, she knows that they’re going to get on her about risk and about safety and protocol and not leaping into harms way. 

but maggie won’t lie. 

so she looks away, even as lucy is standing next to her, even as lucy is reaching out with a finger that feels so cool, so gentle along the outline of her bruise, and maggie says “i may have gotten shot.” 

and then she waits. 

she waits for the anger. 

she waits for the “how could you not tell me?” and the “does alex know?” 

but it never comes. it never comes for two reasons, 

a) in this exact moment, alex comes home. she walks through the door with her helmet still on and dinner in one hand. so for half a second, both maggie and lucy are a little bit distracted because alex hanging her keys up on the hook by the door and pausing to take her helmet off - it does certain things for both of them. 

and 

b) because lucy says “babe, maggie was shot today.” and it’s what lucy doesn’t say, strikes maggie. it’s the fact that lucy doesn’t spill that maggie tried to hide it, instead, she just presses a kiss to maggie’s temple as alex’s eyes go wide and they both know she’s switching into doctor danvers mode - eyes wide but hands steady 

instead of anger and confusion and a litany of questions - maggie gets looked after. she gets alex laying her out on the bed, and touching gently, apologizing when she has to push too hard and maggie bites back a hiss with her lower lip trapped between her teeth. she gets alex asking how it happened and lucy appearing with a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a tea towel before alex even as to ask. 

and maggie gets her girlfriends saying how proud they are of her, how selfless, how fearless, how brave. 

which is weird? 

it’s weird for maggie to be laid out on the couch in a bra and her jeans, while alex plates dinner and lucy clears the table. 

[they have a rule that unless it’s a threat to national security, global security, or supergirl - if the three of them are home together, you’re not actively allowed to work. it’s effective about half the time, but when they’re all home it’s three of the best minds in the world and sometimes they can’t help but let their work come home with them] 

it’s weird for lucy to bring maggie her stir-fry of choice and for alex to bring her a root beer and then they’re sitting on the love seat and the floor respectively. it’s weird for the talk to just be about their days, and about making getting a weekend away together sometime soon. and it’s so weird that maggie stops eating and she puts down her fork, shifts the ice away and she stands up. 

standing hurts, but maggie is a little overwhelmed because her girlfriends should be angry at her, it’s the only thing that makes sense. and yet alex is by her side, a hand hovering but not quite touching maggies low back. alex is asking if it hurts, if she needs some painkillers because she’s got some reall good ones. and lucy is watching because lucy seems to know where maggie’s head is before alex does. 

so when maggie splutters “why aren’t you angry?” 

lucy is also there, cool and calm and running a hand down maggie’s back while alex’s hand is resting just below the bruise and alex is saying “angry at you for getting shot? for doing your job?” but her words aren’t pointed, her words are a balm “it’s what we love about you, how dedicated you are, how fearless and so, so incredibly brave.” 

but lucy knows, so lucy lets maggie speak, let’s maggie say “but i didn’t tell you, i didn’t even tell lucy. i tried to hide it but,” she gestures down to the bruise. 

“mags,” lucy says finally, “we’re not going to be mad at you.” she reassures “we all cope differently, and we’re not all used to having a support system around. it takes getting used to. but it’s what we’re here for, to get you ice and to make sure you don’t have broken ribs and to keep you safe as often as we can beacuse we love you.” 

“it’s not that we like that you got shot,” alex says “but it’s good to know that our field trip paid off.” there’s a smile in her voice and lucy is replying 

“i want both of my girls as safe as possible in the field.” 

which leaves maggies head spinning because they’re so gentle with her, they’re so understanding and she doesn’t deserve it, she doesn’t deserve it. and her ribs ache because she got _shot_  and suddenly she’s not quite got tears in her eyes but she’s turning into alex and reaching for maggie’s hand and doingher best to be overwhelmed by nothing but her girlfriends, her lovers, for as long as she possibly can. 

[turns out it can be all night if she wants. where they all shower and change but make sure someone has maggie all night. and alex is making sure she ices for twenty minutes on, forty minutes off and  holding maggie close, close close while lucy showers. while alex showers, it’s lucy running her hands through maggie’s hair, braiding it lightly, talking about her latest battles with the wolves of washington. and then they’re in bed, together, together, together, with maggie in the middle and maggie at her most comfortable given her ribs, and maggie is sure, across her whole life, she’s never felt so loved] 


	14. director sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Director sanvers prompt - Sometimes they forget that Lucy's a soldier. No that's not it. Sometimes they forget that being a soldier isn't all about aliens and secret organisations. Sometimes it's about sand and scars. Sometimes it's about nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright y’all, this prompt turned into 3k of serious business. 
> 
> trigger warnings for the following: ptsd, flashbacks, violence of war. i think that covers just about everything. 
> 
> now that the seriousness is out of the way, i loved this prompt. there’s not enough about our child lucy lane in the world and i had a great time diving into her head for this piece. a few timeline things worth noting - the fandom wiki for lucy lane says she went to west point, then harvard law, then she goes to jag. i’ve taken some liberties with this and saying that jag sent her first to iraq before she was assigned to her fathers attaché.

you don’t miss the sand. not in the slightest. you don’t miss the stifling heat, or the consequence of never being able to relax. you don’t miss being aware that stepping even one foot off base made you a target. you don’t miss carrying an m16 and an m9 at all times. and you certainly don’t miss the tin can you lived in because there wasn’t much of a jag presence to begin with, let alone a female.

you don’t miss iraq.

not at all.

most people don’t know of the six months you spent there, piecing together court-martial cases that almost always ended in shipping a soldier back to the states for trial. you were really, really good at it. but still, it was six months in the desert. six months in a war zone, where getting shot at was a distinct possibility and near death experiences were a reality.

you don’t like to talk about those days, and for the most part, people don’t ask. unless they’ve seen your jacket, you’re sure that most people are clueless that you were actually deployed. so often do they picture lawyers, even army lawyers as stateside workers. they don’t imagine that you could be deployed, that you could nearly die.

and you don’t like to talk about it.

so you don’t.

but you remember, and oh how you wish you could forget.

except you have scars. not just the mental ones either. you have physical scars, and you’re not ashamed of them, not at all, but the number of people who have seen them can be counted on one hand.

[james. only james.]

but then comes alex. and along comes maggie.

and you’ll always remember the night that alex bore her back for you and for maggie. the way she stood there, so brave and so scared and pulled up her shirt inch by inch and let you, let you both, see the pieces of herself she’s given to the deo.

some nights later, maggie talks about a rib injury that will never quite heal right, that twinges when it’s going to rain - she explains how she was beaten in her high school parking lot. for kissing a girl. how the sheriff looked on and it was that moment, when maggie thought she might get murdered right then and there, that she swore, if she survived, she was going to become a cop. to serve and protect and be better than the old white man who nearly let her get killed.

so you,

you want to share.

you do.

but you’ve never talked about what happened five months and three weeks into your deployment. you’ve never explained why your eight month tour was cut short. they’ve seen the scars across the left side of your ribs of course, the ones that even these years later are dark and brutal and so, so, obvious.

[james saw. james never pressed. he was brilliant like that.]

then you’re whisked away to washington and spend two weeks in and out of committee meetings and dinners and arguments. you spend every night wanting nothing more than to crawl into the arms of your girls and shake away the wolves of washington. but you end up in bed alone. even with phone calls and facetime and listening to alex and maggie talk about their days and telling them about yours. even with alex’s shirt and maggie’s ncpd sweatpants you still feel so damn alone.

thunderstorms keep you awake and sweating, music pumping into your ears as you run mile after mile on the treadmill. not getting anywhere except away from your nightmares. 

[it’s during night number two of the storms that you promise to tell them about the scars] 

when you get back to national city, you’ve never been so glad to have a key to alex’s apartment and the promise of an entire weekend without phone calls. you let yourself in and no one’s around, but there’s food in the fridge and the balcony is open and god, with the sun streaming through the windows it feels so soft and warm and you do nothing more than strip out of your clothes and pass out, exhausted, in her bed, their bed, your bed.

you wake up to maggie’s soft kisses on your neck and her hands running down your back, she’s slipping into bed behind you and you’re not really awake, but you missed her so damn much.

“hey,” she says, her voice low and rumbling in her chest as you turn in her arms, pressing your face into her neck, flinging an arm across her waist.

[you need her, you need her, you need her.]

“missed you.” you slur, still sleepy.

maggie kisses your temple, her hand skating across your back in easy rhythms “sleep.” she coaxes, adding “i’m glad you’re home.”

you feel so loved.

and you’ve never felt so relaxed as you do the next time you wake up.

where the bed is shifting from your other side and you turn your head to see alex with a knee on the bed, pulling her shirt off, pulling her bra off, and changing into something comfy and something light. you reach for her blindly, pulling her close, pulling her closer.

“hey you.” she whispers and you don’t have enough in you to speak yet, you’re still so,

so,

tired.

[washington does this to you.] 

she kisses the exposed plane of your shoulder, her hand draping across your back, resting on maggie’s forearm.

“welcome home.” she whispers and it’s the last thing you hear, succumbing to the soft, to the warm, to the dark.

the third time you wake up, you’re curled around alex, who’s donned her glasses and is reading a complicated looking medical journal with one hand, keeping you close with the other. somewhere behind you, is maggie. you can hear the soft sounds of her in the kitchen, cooking as quietly as she can.

dinner.

it makes you realize how hungry you are.

“morning.” alex teases lightly, putting her journal down and pulling you up for sleepy kiss.

“what time is it?” you ask, feeling very groggy, but understanding that it’s dark outside, that it must be late.

“ten thirty.” alex hums, “pm. maggie’s making dinner.”

“you guys haven’t eaten?” you ask, surprised, but also they waited for you, were waiting for you.

“not without you.” alex says, kissing you again “how was washington?”

you groan, laying back down and kissing her neck, her shoulder. you don’t want to talk about it.

“that good?”

you nod, sigh, roll onto your back “i hate washington.” you say, speaking to the ceiling.

“i know.” alex says, “but now you’re all ours.”

“that’s right.” maggie chimes in, sitting down on the edge of the bed and finding your hand “all ours.”

it makes you smile.

and it makes your scars burn, a reminder of the promise you made yourself in washington.

tonight you’ll tell them.

and tonight you do.

it’s after a very late dinner, you’re all sitting on the couch, tangled together in a splay of limbs and comfort. you’ve been working yourself up to this moment for a few minutes, sure that you’re being so, so subtle until maggie asks, her fingers tracing patters across your shoulder “what’s up luce?”

and you take a deep breath and you sigh and you steady yourself.

“i-” you start, swallowing hard again “there’s something i want to tell you guys about.”

you feel the ripple of tension from maggie, and it’s alex who stays calm, who reaches for your hand, who says “you can tell us anything.”

and it’s maggie following her lead, nodding her apprehension away “we love you luce,” she reminds you.

you nod, you stand, you don’t want to look at them when you talk about this.

so you focus on the city.

you look out the window and let your gaze be caught by the network of orange streetlights expanding in a web towards the horizon. you can hear the sounds of a summer city, so full of life, even at this hour. you pull your shirt up in one motion,

you know what’s exposed here.

the scars.

they’ve seen them, kissed them, touched them feather light.

but never asked, never pushed.

you stand there, the warmth of a summer night seeping into the apartment “i spent six months in Iraq.” you say quietly “that’s where i got these.”

you drop your shirt, let your hands twist in front of you. shoulders rising and falling as the memories swim to the surface

“i was on base in mahmudiyah.” you don’t know why you tell them where, it’s not particularly important “i was fresh out of harvard law, i was thrown into the deep end with an eight month tour. i was supposed to be meeting with the commander to talk with leaders about whatever were the issues of the time. clinics, schools, anything to help without breaking the rules of funding appropriation. but, uh,” you stop, remembering getting out of the humvee, stepping into the blistering heat, sweating already.

you blink twice, force yourself to remember where you are.

[national city. home. with your girls.]

[safe. safe. safe.]

“this building it was, it was plywood and had a tin roof and it wasn’t secure but it was the only place to meet with the local leaders. we knew it was a risk, but,” you pause again “i wasn’t even inside when the mortar hit.”

your hands are in fists, your breathing is uneven,

you’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe.

“it blew up the humvee i’d just gotten out of. killed three soldiers. i-” you swallow hard, you remember bits and pieces of the moment.

bleeding, shouting, getting dragged to safety with gunfire exploding around you.

the pain, the pain, the pain.

“when i woke up next i was in germany.”

your hands are shaking.

“i never went back to iraq.”

that’s the first time you’ve told anyone that story. no one, not even your father, especially not lois, have heard it.

only maggie, only alex.

“can i touch you?” alex is asking quietly and through the reflection on the glass you can see her standing near you, close enough to touch.

you nod. you feel maggie on your other side and they’re here, they’re here -

you’re not quite crying, but your breathing is coming out in soft hiccup-chokes. it’s alex’s hand on your back and maggie’s lips against your temple and they’ve got you, they’ve got you.

“you’re so brave.” alex whispers “for telling us.”

“for trusting us.” maggie adds.

you trust them with your heart, why not this too?

you nod, trying to find words but your throat won’t work properly. you can’t seem to make the syllables make sense. so you just nod, pulling them both closer, leaning into them and letting your breathing even itself out.

you’re home. you’re safe. you’re loved.

three days later is july fourth and all hell breaks loose.

as a principle you hate july fourth. it isn’t a lack of patriotism, it’s a hate for the accompanying celebrations. between the three of you there’s enough trauma, it wasn’t even discussed that tonight would be a night in, at maggie place, with her apartment’s quiet and her soft darkness and her movie collection.

so here you are,

and it’s getting late and you know what’s coming, you’ve been trying to prepare yourself all day,

but in the end you’re a prisoner to your ptsd.

[you’re working on it. you are. you do.] 

the first firework goes off at nine thirty and you’re standing by the door reaching for the keys to maggie’s bike - the promise of a dvd in her saddlebag. the first firework makes you jump, the second and third send you reeling and you’re not in maggie’s apartment.

not any more.

_your hand is scrabbling for a gun and it’s hot, it’s hot and there’s a burning humvee right in front of you. you hear people screaming, soldiers, good soldiers groaning in pain, screaming in agony, burning alive._

_you hear gunfire cracking, and your pulse is through the roof._

_you look around, trying to find the enemy, trying to find the source._

_people are dying._

_people are dying._

_you can’t let them die._

something isn’t right.

you blink twice and you realize it’s not bright enough. _but the gunfire, it’s here, it’s here -_

“lucy breathe.”

a voice, cutting through the panic, through the fire.

a voice not from this desert hellhole.

“lucy, can you breathe for me?’

the same voice.

you blink, it’s darker again. the desert is, it’s flickering. your chest is tight, your grip is tighter around the gun. _you need to protect, you have to protect. you can’t let them die._

“you’re safe.” the same voice.

a familiar voice.

“lucy, you’re safe.”

you blink again and maggie’s apartment comes swimming into focus.

you slam your eyes shut, trying to make sense of what’s happening, of why _you’re hearing gunshots, rippling explosions._

“can you open your eyes?”

you do,

you take a breath.

you’re in maggie’s apartment.

and you’re horrified.

you’re standing with your back to the front door, two hands curled around a gun,

a gun.

you stare at it, feel the weight of it very real, very dangerous in your hand.

you look up,

maggie is to your right, her hands are up and you know it was her voice talking to you.

to your left is alex.

alex who’s so much closer. alex who’s get her hands up, just hovering over yours. she’s not in the line of fire, but she’s close. god she’s close.

if you’d pulled the trigger.

if you’d fired even once.

her hands cover yours. her hands take the gun from yours. it’s a move you’ve seen her do a hundred times, but with you she’s gentle, gentle. 

your hands drop to your sides.

suddenly you’re exhausted, suddenly your entire body feels like lead.

you see alex re-engage the safety, you see her putting the gun into a drawer.

you’re shaking.

you could have shot them. you could have killed them.

you’re not breathing.

“lucy,” maggie is saying, her voice is endlessly calm - there’s no fear in her eyes, there’s not judgement, just calm “lucy look at me.”

you do.

“you’re safe.”

you nod.

“can you tell me where you are?”

“national city.” but your voice sounds foreign in this space “your apartment.”

“good.” maggie says, encouraging, calming.

“can i touch you?”

that’s alex, gun hidden away. she’s standing close, but not touching, waiting for your permission.

you don’t deserve to be helped.

you could have killed them.

you could have k i l l e d them. the women you love.

you shake your head, choking on your own lungs. your hands are in fists and you’re crumbling quickly now. your legs are shaking, they can’t stand up, your ribs are burning, your hands are trembling.

you can’t.

but they can.

“i’m going to hold you.” alex says quietly, waiting half a second for you to hear, to process, to react and lean into her.

you don’t deserve it, her, them, but without them you’ll be a ball on the floor. sobbing and shaking and scared, scared, scared.

alex’s arms are strong and steady and she holds you up, she’s got you.

she’s not scared of you.

maggie keeps talking, keeps soothing and calming since it was her voice that dragged you from the volatility of the flashback. she speaks low, she speaks soft,

“you’re safe luce.”

and

“you’re in national city. you’re in my apartment. you’re safe. you’re safe.”

and

“i love you. you’re loved.”

and eventually, alex guides you to the couch and she lets you sit, lets you breathe. maggie procures a glass of water, sits on your other side and coaxes you to dink. you take small sips before you finally say

“i’m sorry.”

and once you say it for the first time, the next ten, the next twenty spill from your lips with increasing ease.

“hey, hey, hey” alex is speaking this time “lucy, look at me.”

you can’t.

you’re crying now. real, wet sobs that a wrack your chest and threaten to tear you apart if not for the two women holding you together.

“you have nothing to apologize for.” alex says, but you know that can’t be true.

“i nearly shot you.” you say, a protest of the highest order “i could have shot you. i could have killed you.”

how can they trust you? how can they want to be near you?

“it’s not your fault.” maggie says “you thought you were in danger.”

you shake your head.

“we love you.” alex says “nothing can change that.”

you don’t have the energy to fight them, not right now, not this exhausted. you blink and the memories of maggie standing with her hands up, her hands in the air flood you. the memories of alex, on alert, waiting for a moment to take the gun from your hands.

you were a threat.

you could have killed them.

it makes you ache.

but they’re here.

they’re still here.

and alex, who has flashbacks of her own, is taking your hands and is kneeling in front of you and kissing your knuckles and maggie’s hand is on your back and she’s wiping your tears and they don’t blame you.

they don’t.

you don’t understand what you’ve done in this life to deserve them and their love and their kindness. 

alex helps you change into comfortable clothes and maggie sets up moana. you tangle with them on the couch, letting alex hold you, pressing yourself into maggie because you need them, you need them. their heartbeats are steady, they’re your tether. 

there’s talking to be done.

but it will happen tomorrow.

[alex will find the name of her therapist. maggie will buy a home lockbox. you will stay in bed and you will hate yourself.]

[but alex will kiss you and reassure you and hold you. maggie will cook your favorite meal and she will kiss you and kiss alex and let herself be held. because you need the reminder that they’re here, that they’re here with you. and it’s hard, being a solider, where your life isn’t always just aliens and secret organizations. sometimes your life is sand and scars and shrapnel that burned and bloodied and broke your skin.]

[it’s a part of you, like maggie and alex are a part of you.]


	15. director sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Director Sanvers prompt: One of them comes home with a pet. (I can't think of anything better, but I really want more of these three nerds)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here, take some utterly angst free director sanvers. this was a fun prompt to full, and i hope these nerds lived up to your expectations. also let me tell you how complicated the greek gods and goddesses are. i spent fifteen minutes down that rabbit hole alone.

alex says she can’t be blamed. she grew up with kara who would bring her every tiny broken bird, every weak mouse who she was quick enough to catch and just beg alex to help her make them better. so alex says, 

blame kara. 

kara is in central city with lena and isn’t available for comment on the matter, so lucy and maggie blame alex. 

because it was alex who walked in with soaking wet hair and her deo longsleeve clinging to her body and shivering, absolutely shivering. and it was alex who unfurled her leather jacket to reveal what was recognizable as an animal, but not immediately obvious as to what sort. 

maggie thinks kitten, lucy thinks puppy and alex declares that they’re ferrets. 

plural. multiple. 

two if they’re looking to be exact. one a mass of damp white fur, the other, black with streaks of grey. 

“they were just, curled up.” alex is saying, having deposited the jacket - ferrets and all - into maggie’s lap. 

maggie who’s eyeing them suspiciously and leaning back so lucy can peer over her shoulder. 

“i couldn’t leave them.” 

and of course she couldn’t. maggie and lucy watch as alex finds an old shoebox and a towel. she watches as she folds the towel up carefully and sets it inside. then one by one she dries them off with another towel and puts them gently onto the clean, dry towel inside the shoebox. 

“we can take them to the vet tomorrow.” lucy is saying, and maggie is already on her phone saying 

“if we hurry we can make it to the pet store before they close and get some supplies.” 

and it’s not like they all come out and say “oh look, we’re adopting two ferrets.” 

but they are. 

[they fight over the naming rights. until finally it comes down to everyone putting in their two best suggestions in a bowl and making james pull two names out] 

[they end up with apollo and artemis] 

apollo, true to his name, likes to sit on the window ledge in the sun, basking in it as much as possible. he and kara get along famously. but his favorite activity is tag with maggie, romping around the apartment, under the sofa, across the coffee table, and one time almost out onto the balcony and giving maggie an honest to god heart attack. 

artemis prefers lucy, she prefers to curl up in lucy’s lap when lucy is buried in deo paperwork. or curl along the curve of lucy’s neck if she’s napping. she’s more mellow than her brother in game play, but they can both be found napping on kara’s stomach when she’s around. 

they love alex best of all though. fighting for her attention whenever she’s around. and displaying certain signs of sadness when alex is at the deo for long stretches of time. 

[it’s unexpected, they joy that these little furry beasts bring to the three of them, but a night spent cuddled in bed, ferrets draped across them, netflix playing on a laptop, is a night well spent] 


	16. director sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh my god director sanvers is amazing. alex and lucy work together officially at the deo. maggie doesn't. it causes some tension

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took a couple of different forms before coming to life as this piece and of the forms, this is the one i’m happiest with. enjoy! :D

“ _excuse me ma’am, you can’t be here.”_

and usually it’s cleared up by a phone call to director lane, or agent danvers, or a casual mention of bringing supergirl those potstickers she requested. 

usually. 

sometimes it’s not. sometimes it’s 

“ _director lane isn’t in the building.”_ and “ _agent danvers, ma’am?”_

like sometimes the poor kid on duty can’t remember if he’s supposed to deny the existence of said clandestine government organization or what. and there are times when even supergirl is away and maggie is left frustrated because she knows that none of them are in the building, that’s why she’s here. 

she’s here because lucy is in dc and supergirl is without her powers curled up on maggie’s couch, and alex is in the field and she’s suppsoed to be picking transportable sun lamps up because the weather is shit - 

and it’s j’onn who saves maggie. 

and it’s j’onn who walks her through the halls of the deo and doesnt say anything about the anger he can feel radiating off maggie in waves. he doesn’t say anything because he can also sense the way maggie grapples with the emotions. the way maggie is not saying anything about the inconvenience because it’s not her place, because she knows she’s not special enough to breach code and regulations for. 

but j’onn notices anyway, because he knows his children and maggie may be new-ish, but he knows. 

so he considers, and he thinks. 

and when lucy returns from washington he approaches her, promises “just one thing,” because he knows how eager she is to get home, how exhausted she always is in the wake of washington. 

which perks her interest and he leans in the doorway and says “i was thinking, perhaps granting detective sawyer some level of clearance is in order.” he pauses, gauging her reaction - of his children, lucy can be the hardest to read “she is our primary point of contact with the ncpd and she’s,” he pauses “familiar with the deo.” 

understatement, sure.

for a moment it seems as if lucy thinks he might be kidding, but then the tension releases from her shoulders, she leans back in her chair and she nods “i think that’s a good idea.” 

and perhpas she’s seen it too, heard the things maggie sawyer will never say outloud. 

j’onn nods “i’ll contact her captain and inform her of the situation,” he adds “pam has the paperwork for detective sawyer to sign, whenever she’s next in the building.”

and then he’s disappering from her doorway and lucy can hear alex’s footsteps approaching and lucy is smiling and standing and pulling alex into a kiss and alex is pulling her close  -

 _i missed you,_ it says. 

 _i love you,_ it says. 

“what’d j’onn want?” she asks - there aren’t many secrets in the danvers-sawyer-lane household these days. 

“i’ll tell you when we get home.” lucy promises, “i just need to pick a couple things up from hr.” 

so alex kisses lucy again and she’s scoops lucy’s carry on up and she says “i’ll see you at home then.” 

of course, of course, of course. 

and that night, they’re eating take out and debating if they’re going to watch the latest billions, or dancing with the stars, when lucy cuts in and says 

“one thing,” 

and alex wonders if this is the mystery meeting about to come to light. maggie is leaning back in her chair, dressed in sweatpants that aren’t hers and a shirt that’s too big and she looks so, so relaxed, lucy feels good about bringing this up. 

she puts the paperwork down in front of maggie “for you.” she says “all you need to do is sign.” 

maggie looks down, blinking slowly and reading even slower. alex waits, patient, reading maggies reactions instead of the paper from her sideways vantage point. 

whatever it is has maggie’s breathing caught in her chest, and her eyes are a little bit wider and she’s not quite moving, except for her eyes, back and forth and back and forth across the page. she flips it wordlessly, sees the highlighted lines that require her attention. 

she lets the to page drop, looks up at lucy “you didn’t have to -” she starts “it’s not,” she tries again, but she shakes her hand “is this for real?” 

alex doesn’t even have to ask, maggie is pushing the papers across the table, still looking at lucy, lucy who’s nodding, lucy who’s saying “it was j’onns idea.” 

“not yours.” maggie says 

“i’d be lying if i said i hadn’t thoguht about asking him.” lucy says, “but he came to me.” 

maggie nods, maggie lets out a breath and looks over at alex. in her eyes is all the hesitation, all the worry and self-conscious fear that she’s only just getting used to letting these women see. 

alex reaches for maggie’s hand across the table “you deserve it.” alex reassures her “and not because of us.” alex say “because of the work you do. the loves you save. everything you stand for.” 

“j’onn and vasquez are the ones signing off.” lucy says, nodding to the pages “it’s clear from conflict of interest.” 

maggie still looks unsure, the paperwork presented before her rendering her utterly speechless. here she is, being presented with what sounds like an official deo id card. granting her access to the building, without an escort and identifying her as the official ncpd liaison to the deo. 

she signs and pretends her hands aren’t shaking. 

because the thing of it is, maggie would never have said. she would have bit back her anger and her frustrations, she would have made each phone call as required, she would have told herself it’s work, it’s work. but all the while the darkest corners of her mind would have jeered, would have told her it’s because she’s not good enough, she’s not talented enough, she’s not worthy.

but here is the paperwork saying that she is. and here are the women in her life and that are pulling her into a hug because they knew, 

they knew and they worried and they never thought less of her. 

they loved her, they love her.

she loves them.


	17. director sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> director sanvers: lucy is ticklish. alex/maggie enjoy taking advantage of this

alex is convinced the stars have aligned, or the multi-verse, or at the very least that they should make a mental note to double check if the moon is blue tonight. tonight which will be a saturday night, which makes the present a saturday afternoon in july. alex is sprawled out on the couch, a copy of the journal of cellular medicine held in one hand and a pen in the other.

they’re making notes, tapping the pen against their sternum in between annotations. truly, their head is only half in their work, sure the feature article is interesting, but they’re home, on a weekend, with both of their girlfriends free from distractions of work.

it’s a near miracle.

or an actual miracle really.

alex can hear maggie in the kitchen, talking quietly to lucy, who’s perched on the counter.

“hey handsome,” maggie calls, and it sounds like she’s peering into the fridge “lucy’s suggesting we go out for dinner. thoughts?”

alex sits up, earmarking their page in the journal and putting it onto the coffee table “where were you thinking?”

lucy shrugs “there’s that place out in the valley, with the bed and breakfast we’ve been meaning to go to. i was just thinking,” lucy continues “we weren’t supposed to have the weekend off, but here we are and we should use it.”

alex stands up, stretching their back and taking the moment to imagine being out of national city, away from the hub and the noise and into the freedom and the quiet. it’s an appealing picture, and with kara otherwise occupied, by some awards event in central city with lena, there’s very little reason to say no.

in fact,

there’s no reason to say no.

“sure,” alex smiles, walking over and into the kitchen, the cool tiles refreshing after the heat of the summer sun. they stand between lucy’s legs, their hands smoothing down lucy’s thighs “that sounds great.” they say, leaning forward to kiss her.

lucy leans into it for a moment, drawing out the kiss “what about you mags?” al

alex asks, leaning back and reaching for maggie’s hand, with their other hand they run their fingertips down lucy’s ribs “you want to go up to the valley?”

however maggie’s response - which was going to be an emphatic yes please anything to spend more time with my two favorite people - is stalled by a giggle.

it’s more a shriek than a giggle, but nonetheless, said noise actually escapes lucy’s lips. her eyes widen in what can only be classified as moderate embarrassment and alex is registering the way that lucy’s body curved away from their hand

“are you-” they start,

“don’t.” lucy says, holding up a hand.

“you’re ticklish.” maggie says, and she’s not even bothering to hide the amusement in her voice.

and in this instance, lucy knows she’s in trouble.

she knows she’s in trouble because her partners are looking at her with matching smirks and lucy is trapped on the counter, with one of alex’s hands resting on her ribs, and maggie’s other hand is dancing down lucy’s thigh and

honestly,

honestly lucy knows that it’s a miracle it took this long for her partners to discover how ticklish she is.

[although there is the sex thing, when there’s a mouth just right on the curve of her hip and she was always able to pass that away as pleasure, not being tickled, but now -]

now alex sees lucy’s eyes bright and the shadows she usually carries there are gone, temporarily. maggie is leaning into them both and it’s just a moment thats perfect. perfect because lucy’s shrieking and she’s squirming away and she’s smiling and laughing and trying to fend them off without much real effort behind her moves. maggie has let one of her hands wander to the small of alex’s back and god, god,

it’s perfect.


	18. director sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (if you're still willing) Director Sanvers prompt: they're at the supermarket buying stuff and Lucy can't reach the top shelf so she calls Maggie cause she's not willing to admit to Alex how short she actually is, but then Maggie doesn't reach either. They end up calling Alex and she laughs so hard she snorts but also kisses her tiny gfs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this got unexpectedly slightly, barely, kind of but technically maybe nsfw towards the end??? i have no idea??? but enjoy!

it’s melee is what it is. some people call it grocery shopping, but when it comes to the rare occasion wherein alex, lucy and maggie find themselves all able to participate in the shop - it’s less organized and more chaos. usually it’s maggie who surrenders herself to the florescent lights and the soccer moms and war of the carts. not because she does most of the cooking - although she is the best of the three - she’s just the one with the most patience. alex usually comes away threatening to shoot people and lucy almost always comes back with take  out instead. 

so it’s maggie, usually. 

when it’s just maggie things go well. she has a list, she knows what alex likes to make when it’s her turn and she knows the two things lucy’s capable of making without resorting to take away. plus she picks up the vegan ice cream they all enjoy and three boxes of oreos for kara. it’s coordinated. 

this though? 

maggie’s not sure how any of them are allowed to run around with guns. 

they lost alex to the produce section and somewhere after that lucy disappeared down an aisle without saying so much as word. which is why when  maggie’s phone goes off, and it’s lucy’s name on the screen, maggie almost, almost, doesn’t answer. but she does and it’s with a 

“where did you even go?” 

to which lucy replies /”aisle three, you can’t tell alex.”/ 

which is a comment that makes no sense until maggie arrives in aisle three and sees lucy.

lucy with one hand braced on the shelving unit, and rocking up onto her tip toes, reaching and extending and trying, but _failing_ at reaching the top shelf. 

on said shelf are the weird, slightly off brand ritz crackers that lucy inhales at a sickening pace. 

“what makes you think i’m going to be able to help you?” maggie asks, masking a smirk with a raised eyebrow as lucy huffs in annoyance. 

“she’s going to laugh.” lucy says 

“yup.” maggie sighs 

“can’t you like, lift me up or something?” lucy posits.

which is how alex danvers finds her girlfriends: maggie standing dangerously close to the shelves, lucy piggy backing, and reaching and still not able to reach the elusive box of crackers.

alex rounds the corner, sees the sight and nearly drops her carefully chosen pineapple. she manages to catch it, but is bent double she’s laughing so hard, tear in her eyes and a genuine snort escaping. 

lucy hops off maggie’s back, trying to be angry, or offended - but alex is laughing and maggie is smirking and yeah it’s a little ridiculous. so all lucy can do is say, with as much dignity as she has left “can you at least get the crackers when you pull yourself together?” 

which alex does - of course, and she desposits her prizes into the loaded cart and pulls lucy into a kiss first and mumbles an _i love you_ against her lips. and then she wraps an arm around maggie, saying how cute it was that they thought they’d be able to reach it together. 

to which maggie leans in and whispers something in alex’s ear about bring alex down a little, about putting her on her knees. and god, that makes her shiver and makes her gulp and makes her hot and makes her need to be home right _now._

[they have pineapple after all.] 

[and a whole drawer full of toys] 


	19. director sanvers - touchstarved!lucy 'verse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> director sanvers + spooning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this started as a simple prompt about director sanvers spooning. then it turned into touch starved lucy, and here we are folks. enjoy!

“i asked lois once,” lucy says one night.

they’re all home, they’re all safe and together and fed. they’re at maggie apartment - a storm is coming and with it kara, and they’ve found that maggie’s apartment calms her best. so lucy is curled in an armchair, a blanket pulled around her legs, a book dog-eared in her lap.

she’s looking out the window, away from where maggie and alex are sharing the sofa. alex at the end with the best light, a neurology journal before her. maggie at the other end, legs stretched out and in alex’s lap, moments before occupied by the nintendo ds in her hands.

when lucy speaks though, when lucy finally, finally finds the words to voice what’s been eating at her all night. what has her in a retreat, distanced from her girlfriends, they both pause,

they both look up.

maggie sets her ds down, the brightened screen illuminating the black army letting along the grey shirt she tends to sleep in. alex puts the journal down, but keeps the pen between her teeth, chewing the end and trying not to stare lucy down. trying not to startle her.

“i asked her about our mom.” lucy finishes, because this is the only way she knows how to talk about the knots in her chest “i was four when she was killed.” she explains “assassinated. she worked for the un as a lawyer. she-” lucy pauses “almost everything i know about her i learned from the internet.”

she swallows hard, lucy’s fingers find the frayed edges of the blanket, picking at loose stitching, focusing on the sounds of the city and not the attentive nature of her girlfriends “my dad, he can’t talk about her. even now, twenty something years later.” she shakes his head “i knew better than to ask. and lois,” lucy sighs “lois is older than me, she, she has more memories of our mom, but we,” lucy shrugs,

“by the time i knew that i wanted to ask questions, she was barely my sister any more.” lucy settles on “she was in college, she was getting away from the military, from our dad and eveything he stood for. you know they haven’t been in the same room for nearly a decade?”

“but,” lucy sighs, on a roll now, the words slipping out of their own accord, her gaze on the window, the open window. her gaze drifting to the photo hanging on the wall, one of the few maggie has around her apartment.

a photo of the three of them. one that james took, one game night, alex with the playstation controller in her hands, lucy sprawled on the couch feet in alex’s lap, head in maggies - cheering alex on. maggie in the midst of some animated conversation with kara who’s in the armchair, blurry but half there in the photo.

“everything i know about my mom, i learned from the internet. i asked lois once, about her. but i was drunk and angry, i was on leave just after basic and i wanted to know, but lois, i didn’t appreciate how hard it would be for lois to talk about her.”

“i didn’t think that lois had been waiting years and years for me to ask this question. i didn’t know and then i when i finally asked and she didn’t know where to start, i got angry. and i got upset, and i accused her of hiding things from me about our mother. i stormed out.”

“luce,” maggie says quietly, but lucy holds up a hand, she needs to keep going, she needs to get this out.

“i haven’t asked her since.” lucy admits “we’ve barely talked enough for me to be able to answer that and i, i think about sometimes all the things i want to know. what color were her eyes? and stuff like that. what did her hair feel  like? but mostly, mostly you know what i want to know?”

and lucy lane does not cry often, but goddamn if she doesn’t feel the tears welling up, if she doesn’t feel the quiver in her voice, in her throat “i want to know if she hugged us?” lucy admits “because my dad, he’s never, i could probably count the number of times he’s hugged me on one hand. and i just, she had to right? i feel like someone would have, because lois, lois went around getting hugs from everyone she could. anyone on the base, she’d just run up to with her arms out. but me, i - i don’t know. and i feel like she would have? but i don’t know, and i don’t know if it’s too late to ask her about that kind of stuff. what if she doesn’t remember?”

lucy’s voice breaks on ‘remember,’ the tears start rolling down her chest and she’s pulling her knees to her chest because she wants to know, but she’s afraid she might never find out. that she’ll be left to wonder about the person her mother was forever. and lucy can’t handle that. she can’t handle it because not so recently her life has changed.

co-director of a tecnically non-existent government agency was one thing, falling in love with maggie sawyer and alex danvers - that was something else entirely. falling in love at all, that was something else. because there was james, and lucy loved him, part of her still does - but this relationship, this has taught her the difference between loving and being in love.

she realized it first about a month ago, spooning maggie, with alex pressed against her back - their legs a tangle under the bedsheets. lucy had realized that before these two, she’d never been comfortable with causal intimacy.

sex was fine. sex was a stress reliever.

but spooning and cuddles on the couch and getting hugged - god getting hugged - they felt like foreign territory. to the point where alex, where maggie asked permission before touching her like that, and never once had they let lucy feel lesser about needing that kind of warning.

now things are a little different. lucy’s favorite moments are when she’s making coffee and maggie walks up behind her, kissing her neck and wrapping her arms around lucy’s waist. or working late at the deo and alex walking into her office, up behind her and kneading the knots out of her shoulders and neck.

and that night, when she realized all this, it felt like she was winded by the realization that no one, no one ever really, looked after her the way these girls do. the way her girls do.

so lucy had wondered and she had thought and she had arrived at the gaping hole in her hear that was, is, where her mom should be. where hugs should be, but instead there’s her moms wikipedia page and the photo lucy stole from lois when she was twelve.

“she’ll remember.” alex promises, and she sounds so sure that lucy has to believe her - has to think that alex knows because she’s listened to kara recount stories from krypton even all these years later “can we hug you, lucy?” alex is asking, and maggie is right here too.

lucy’s not sure when they stood up, when they padded across the living room rug to kneel in front of her, but here they are. patient and concerned and not touching her without her explicit consent. so she nods and she let’s herself be guided to her feet, and lucy cries.

she cries into their arms because lucy wants to know, she has so many questions, so many it feels like she’ll never be able to get them all out in time. she grips them as her breathing stutters and catches, and lucy listens when it’s maggie’s infinite calm that grounds her, and it’s alex’s soft, strong hands that tether her, and they don’t let her go. they don’t let her drift away, or drown.

they’ve got her.

they’ve got her the next day as well,

when lucy is pacing the kitchen with her phone against her ear, an army of butterflies in her stomach and loiss voice coming through saying “/hey luce, how are you?/”

and lucy doens’t think she can do it, she doesn’t think she can because her words are all jumbled in her chest, her one free hand is gripping the counter and she can’t, she can’t -

alex is in front of her. alex’s hand is pressing into her chest, alex is exaggerating her breathing for lucy. maggie has a hand against lucy’s back, just present, just calm, just even as lois goes

“/lucy? you there?/”

so lucy finds her words and she asks, voice shaking “i was thinking you could come out and visit.” and “i- I could cook dinner and maybe, maybe we could talk about mom?”

because the thing of it all is that lois has been waiting, waiting for the day her baby sister would once again ask that question. so lois is saying “/i’d love that luce,/” and “/how does next weekend sound?/”

and when lucy hangs up the phone, her hands are shaking, but she’s smiling and she’s pulling alex and maggie into the tightest hug she can because without them, without them she would never have had the courage. 


	20. superspacefam - w/ a side of director sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm totally enjoying all these Director Sanvers stories. Thanks for writing them! If you don't mind a prompt, Director Sanvers and sparring or a fight scene against a group of enemies. :)

there is exactly one day where j’onn seriously considers retirement. not that he knows what or where he would retire to, but that’s not the point. the point is he has a small collection of space kids and they stress him out. they’re also all really, really good at their respective jobs, but j’onn remembers a time when all he had to worry about was one child - not three daughters, two sons and [look he doesn’t have a favourite, but alex danvers is his favorite child], his newly come out nonbinary child. so j’onn has six children who do more than the world will ever know about in the name of keeping the planet safe. 

which, just in case anyone was wondering, is a risky business. hell, he’s a martian - missing m’gann thank you very much and he tries not to think about how much her absence hurts and how proud of her he is - and the work is risky for him. let alone the five humans who will run into the line of fire irregardless of what’s coming at them. it’s lucky he doesn’t have such things as high blood pressure to worry about. benefit of being an alien. 

still though, there’s a day that j’onn comes close to seriously considering retirement. it’s a day where all the members of his family are in the fray and he himself is busy trying to help contain a small army of rouge dhorians - a technologically advanced race who have a perchance for war, violence and a weakness against iron - who are dead set on claiming the deo, sending out a signal and bringing the rest of their spacefaring hoard to earth. 

so basically it’s a regular tuesday. 

now j’onn considers retiring at the exact moment he sees the following: 

james, as guardian, taking out two dhorians at once with his shield. 

winn, using cover from vasquez to type frantically into the computer, flipping the lights to red, a light that the dhorians can’t filter properly. 

kara as supergirl backed into a corner, facing off against four and oh so aware of the vulnerabilities that come with fighting inside the deo, surrounded by friends and family and chaos. kara is fighting, there’s a trail of unconscious in her wake, but this, even this she may not be able to get free from unscathed. 

until, 

of course, 

alex arrives. and it’s not just alex. it’s alex and maggie and lucy. they appear seemingly from nowhere, alex vaulting over the upper platform and landing into a roll before springing to their feet next to their sister. they quip something, gun raised, and j’onn see’s kara smirk. he sees the tension release from her shoulders and suddenly she’s all supergirl again. 

maggie and lucy are coming from the stairs, guns in hand and j’onn, well he’s got a good chokehold on a dhorian at the moment, he’s able to watch. he’s able to watch as his co-director pistol whips a dhorian upside the chin and maggie flashes her ncpd flashlight into huge, insect like eyes. together they kick the dhorian in the chest and it tumbles backwards, head smashing against the floor. 

it’s honestly chaos, people fighting, people shouting - kara as supergirl jumping up, over towards where vasquez is out of ammo and surrounded. which leaves alex and maggie and lucy to take down three, 

and really it’s not a fair fight, 

for the dhorians. 

they’re dismantled. shockingly quickly if j’onn does say so himself. and the silence that follows, as the echoing din of battle subsides and it’s kara calling out “alex!” 

and alex, across the room, their knee pressing into a dhorian back, replying “i’m good supergirl, i’m good.” 

and kara checking in on everyone, james, maggie, lucy, winn, vasquez, every agent in the room. and finally, finally j’onn. 

“all good supergirl.” he nods, “good work everyone.” he says, taking everyone in “lets get them to holding.” 

and they will, his people will, but for a moment, for a moment j’onn sees alex leaning into maggie, breathing hard, cradling their left arm close to their chest. he sees alex reach out with their good arm and pull lucy close, hand resting gently on lucy’s cheek inspecting a cut. 

they turn to j’onn “tell the director she needs to get this cut looked at.” 

“tell agent danvers they need to get their wrist checked out.” lucy replies with a fond smile. 

there’s a voice from across the room and it’s kara saying, after a moment of squinting “they didn’t break anything,” and “alex, you just need to ice it and take it easy.” 

kara looks over to maggie “make sure they take it easy.” 

and god, j’onn isn’t sure he’s ever seen alex danvers so happy. post a successful win for the deo, surrounded by their family -all safe, all alive, - and having their chosen pronouns used so freely and happily. his chest bursts with pride. his family, checking each other for injuries. his family, declaring the need to celebrate not with drinks - another change for lucy and alex both, that the group is respecting - but with pizza. 

“on the deo.” j’onn says 

“at my place!” kara adds “i’m getting potstickers.” 

and a day of war and violence is wrapped up with alex and maggie and lucy tangled on the couch, hands in hair and hands pulling each other close. james and kara cuddles on the floor under a blanket and winn with his head in james’ lap. j’onn sits in the armchair - the one kara totally didn’t get for him apparently - but these are his kids. 

and they may do just fine without him, but he’d rather be here to protect them and love them, with everything he’s got. 


	21. sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Maggie comforting Alex through self harm/alcohol abuse (hella depressed rn and need something comforty)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my dear anon, sorry this took me a little bit to get out, but here we are. i hope it’s what you were looking for. and i hope you know you’re not alone. my ask box is always open for anyone who needs to vent, rant, or just get some support. 
> 
> tw: depression  
> tw: self harm  
> tw: a little bit of blood.

you’re curled on the couch when you get the call. it takes long seconds to answer because the energy, god the energy it takes to even lift your phone from the coffee table and swipe across the screen to answer - it’s nearly too much. but this is maggie and maggie will worry if you don’t answer. so maybe, maybe if you keep your voice tilted just right and force a smile in the dark, maybe maggie won’t notice that you’re falling apart.

“hey mags.” you say, hoping, wishing that your voice didn’t sound as off kilter as you feel.

[the world is slipping through your fingers. you’re drowning, drowning and god, you wish it hurt more. you wish that it felt like anything at all. but it doesn’t, it doesn’t. you don’t feel anything, besides the absence of everything.] 

“ _hey,”_ maggie is saying and she sounds exhausted, she sounds worn but there’s the sounds of sirens in the background “ _i’m not going to be home til late babe. i’m sorry, i know we had movie night planned, but there was a shooting and it’s all hands on deck.”_

and this shouldn’t feel like a good thing. you shouldn’t be, not exactly happy more relieved, that maggie won’t be walking through that front door. that she won’t find you like this. maybe if you hide tonight, maybe if you stay in the dark the nothingness will fade with the eventuality of the rising sun. it’s a long stretch till sunrise and there’s a razor blade in your bathroom, hidden, for nights like this. 

[and god, your body is littered with scars, scars you wear proudly. all except the ones along your ankle, where socks or long pajama pants or slippers, or a blanket, or, or, or - those are the scars that burn the most, that seem the glisten in this dark and call to you. they promise something, they promise pain.] 

“ _you there babe?”_  maggie is asking and you realize that you haven’t said anything, so you’re scrambling for words, pulling them from the air and blurting them. 

“it’s no problem mags.” you say quickly “it’s all good. i’m just,” you stall -

you don’t lie to maggie. you don’t lie to her. 

“i’m just going to bed.” you end up saying, because that’s true. eventually you will anyway. 

“ _okay,”_ maggie says, but there’s hesitation in her voice, “ _is everything okay, alex?”_

ohno. no. no. no. 

your eyes sting and your throat is closing and you have to be okay, you have to be okay because work needs maggie “just tired.” you say, “be safe out there maggie, i love you.” 

and you’re hanging up before she has time to question you any more. before she has time to hear the cracks in your voice and the darkness choking your lungs. national city needs her. you, you’ll be okay. this darkness is familiar. the numbness, consuming, but you know a solution. 

dragging yourself to the bathroom takes an eternity and the only reason, the only reason you don’t make a pitstop to the kitchen is because there’s no alcohol there anymore. not since eight months, three weeks and two days ago.

you count it out on nights like tonight. where at least if you had a drink you would have been blacked out by now, or at least feeling something other than the suffocating nothing. 

but you’re trying to be better. 

so there’s no alcohol. 

you’re in the bathroom instead, pressed against the wall, barefoot on the tiled floor, pajama pant rolls up to your knee. you’re rummaging in the cabinet, pulling out the surgical blade for nights like this. it’s sterile. it’s clean. you make sure of that. always.

there’s cotton buds and isopropyl aclohol next you, the blade is clean, clean clean and you’re sitting in the dark and you know you shouldn’t. you know it’s been nearly a year since you scarred yourself like this. you know and you wish the blade was heavier in your hand. you wish you didn’t want this - the pain, the release, the feeling - as much as you do. 

but you want it. 

oh you want it. 

you need it because you need to feel something, anything. you’re suffocating under the weight of not feeling anything at all. brought on, spurred on by the niggling voice in the back of your mind - 

the one that reminds you how disappointed your mother is. 

the one that reminds you of every time kara’s gotten hurt. that j’onn has and winn and maggie and vasquez. and every member of your team who’s gotten killed - who’s families you’ve informed as fbi agent alex danvers. 

[you’ve met every one of their families. j’onn always tells you it’s not necessary. but it is. they’re your responsibility and when you fail them in the biggest of ways, you owe it to them to look their families in the eyes] 

and tonight, you wish tonight was brought on by anything other than sometimes it just happens and you’re reduced to this - 

curled up on your bathroom floor, in the dark, with a surgical blade pressed against your skin, dragging along the soft skin under your ankle. where you’re hissing because fuck it hurts and tears prick your eyes and it’s something, it’s something, it’s something. consumed by the smallest fraction of these somethings, you’re lose to the world around you.

and you should hear the door open. you should hear maggie say your name. you should hear her close the door quielty. you should hear her lock it, and then lock her gun away in the homesafe. you should hear it all. 

but you don’t. caught in catching the blood from rolling onto the tiled floor. 

you don’t hear anything until she’s in the bathroom. until maggie is kneeling down and saying so, so, gently, gently, gently 

_oh, alex._

and you jump. you try to hide the evidence, but it’s too late, and you wait for the anger, for the disappointment, for the grabbing of tools from your hands and the beratement. you wait for it, breath in your chest. but they never come. 

instead it’s maggie sitting on the tiled floor across from you. it’s maggie looking at you with nothing but compassion and concern and love, love, love. it’s maggie waiting as you splutter “what,” and “i thought you were working.” and then “i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m sorry.” 

and then it’s maggie leaning forward and reaching for your hand, taking the blade from between your fingers and it’s maggie bringing your fingertips to her lips and kissing them, looking at you and saying “you’ve got nothing to apologize for.” 

but you look down at your ankle, the blood so obvious. there’s no way maggie hasn’t seen it and if she’s seen it - which she has - how can she say that? you look up at maggie with questions in your eyes and later you’ll realize what reflected back at you was heartbreak. maggie’s at the fact that she can’t protect you from this - or that she couldn’t have done it sooner. 

“can i look after you?” maggie asks quietly, her hand still tangled in yours and her voice barely a whisper. 

you choke on a sob because god, 

you need that. 

you need someone who just, gets it. who isn’t asking you for anything more than sitting here “you don’t have to do anything ally, i promise.” maggie keeps talking, even as she leans under the sink, retrieving the first aid kit “i’m right here. i’ve got you.” 

and she does, have you. her hands are gentle on your ankle as she cleans the wound. she looks up, even if you can’t give her eye contact, you can feel the softness of her gaze as she says “this is going to sting, i’m sorry. i’ll make it quick.” 

and you hiss and blink back more tears, but when maggie’s done wrapping gauze around your ankle and you’re in her arms. or, almost in her arms because maggie is hesitating and she’s asking “can i ally?” 

you nod, yes, yes, please, before i say no. before the voice talk me out of thinking for this half second i deserve you.

 you’re in her arms. 

her lips are pressing against your forehead and you’re sobbing. you’re clinging to her, shaking and you don’t know where any of this is coming from. you only know that it’s erupting and it’s this unstoppable force because you’ve faced a lot of darkness in your time, 

but never had someone walk in like this. 

never had someone hold you, and sit against the sink so you can be pulled into their lap. you’ve never had someone care like maggie sawyer does. and when she says gently, quietly “i’m going to take you to bed, okay?” you don’t even mange a nod, just grip her tighter and then, 

in a display of strength befitting of kara, maggie is standing and lifting you into her arms and you don’t have to do anything. 

you just grip her and tuck your head into her neck and let yourself be carried. 

she lays you gently, gently onto the bed. maggie speaks softly “i’m going to take your shirt off, okay?” and “pants too, i’ve got it all right here. i’m right here.” 

because somehow maggie knows what you need. maggie knows now that she’s here, you’re clinging to her. she’s your bouy in the storm raging inside - a whirlpool sucking you of energy, of emotion, of everything and everything. this black hole.

maggie kisses your forehead as she pulls your comfiest longsleeve top down. and when you shift and she helps you into your pajamas, she takes no time at all, shedding her work attire, leaving it a heap on your floor. she tugs on whatever’s at hand and she guides you into bed, crawls in next to you. 

and god, 

you’re so tired.

 just, 

collapsing. 

crying still, crying because it’s the only other way your body knows how to feel. now that your blade is gone. 

and through it all is maggie speaking quietly, gently, gently “let it out ally, it’s okay. i’ve got you. i’ve got you.” 

with a hand moving in soft circles down your back and her other hand tangled in your hair. your head is resting on her chest, you’re clinging to her. you need her. and maggie isn’t scared of your darkness, she isn’t judging you, or yelling. maggie is protecting you, even from yourself. maggie is your light. your light through the darkness. 

[and the next morning, when kara appears with waffles from that place in vancouver and a berry smoothie from that place in metropolis, you’re still tucked against maggie’s side. you’re still in the darkness, caught and suffocating, but it’s lighter. lighter still where kara crawls under the covers at maggie’s behest, when kara wraps her arms around you - you still splayed across maggie - and when they both tell you how loved you are, how special, how safe. you cry, sort tears into maggie’s shoulder.]

[they’re your light. and you’re never quite sure you’ll deserve them, but they’re here regardless it seems.] 

[and you love them, love them, love them.


	22. sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sanvers + "one more chapter"

the priority of things that alex keeps on her bedside tables shifts, depending on her mood. maggie is fairly sure alex doesn’t realize the subtle changes: sometimes it’s her gun atop an old ‘current developments in biotechnology and bioengineering’ textbook. sometimes it’s her cellphone resting on the textbook, on loud, alert for kara’s ringtone, for j’onns. sometimes it’s a glass of water, condensation collecting around the rim and pooling on the old textbook cover. 

but always, 

always present is the textbook. 

or rather, a textbook. a textbook that’s either bioengineering or organic chemistry. maggie hasn’t quite tracked the shift in which textbook earns a spot on the bedside table, but she’s getting there. 

what has her attention now is the fact that it’s nearly three am and she’s rolling onto her back, in the half state between consciousness and sleep. her attention, what of it there is, is caught by a light. not a city light, but a flashlight. one she recognizes, one that alex uses when she’s trying to read but also trying not to wake maggie. 

and sure enough alex has her knees up and the textbook propped against them, open, finger tracing line after line of text. 

“s’late.” maggie says blinking against the light, trailing her hand across alex’s waist “can’t sleep babe?” 

she already knows the answer, but hearing alex sigh, hearing alex say “yeah, something like that.” and switch off the torch, adding “i’m sorry, i woke you. i’ll put it away.” 

it has maggie waking up a little bit more and pressing a kiss to alex’s arm and saying quietly, gently, gently “no, no, babe it’s okay. i know reading helps you relax.” 

maggie feels alex look over at her in the dark “but you were asleep.” she says 

maggie smiles, adjusting so she can lean into alex’s sitting form more, an arm still thrown across alex’s waist “s’okay babe. can you, would you read it, to me?” 

“you want to hear about cell factories for industrial bioprocesses?” alex asks, slightly disbelieving.  

“yeah,” maggie says “i’d listen to anything you read to me alex.” 

so alex does, she starts reading, talking, and maggie isn’t totally awake, but she’s not totally asleep. just listening to the way alex’s voice gets lower as she gets tired, as she starts to sink lower into, her posture slipping “that’s chapter three mags,” alex says, voice gravelly. 

“one more chapter?” maggie asks, because she knows alex needs at least one more until  she’ll fall asleep. and she knows alex won’t read another unless maggie asks, until alex knows that she’s not disrupting maggie’s sleep, or upsetting maggie. 

“one more chapter.” alex agrees with a soft smile, her hand coming to maggie’s hair, carding through it gently “it’s about enzyme systems for industrial bioprocesses.” she starts 

“hit me, danvers.” maggie smiles, pressing a kiss to alex’s hip. 

“anything you want sawyer.” 


	23. sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sanvers + 'it's not heavy, i'm stronger than i look'

alex is breathless. alex is sweating because she’s in full tactical gear and alex is panicked. alex is fumbling her keys into her door and pushing it open with more force than necessary. alex stands in the doorway, trying to catch her breath, trying to let the panic settle because kara’s okay, her supergirl cape is half draped across the table. maggie’s okay. it’s all okay. 

they’re alive. 

“mags,” alex breaths, and her eyes are wide because kara is laid out on alex’s kitchen table. there’s a little bit of blood, there’s a some groaning and there’s maggie, in her ncpd jacket and her kevlar vest and she’s looking across at maggie saying

“i’m okay. kara’s okay.” maggie assures her

“just a little banged up.” kara groans “trucks hurt, did you know that alex?” 

“yeah,” alex says, smiling a little, relieved that kara’s got jokes, then she turns to maggie “how’d you get her here?” 

maggie shrugs “she’s not that heavy, and anyway, i’m stronger than i look danvers.” she says “plus, your place was closer, we needed to get her out the fray.” 

“is the-” kara starts 

“he’s in custody.” alex assures her, wrapping an arm around maggie’s shoulders and pressing a kiss to maggie’s temple “i love you maggie.” she says quietly 

“what about me?” kara asks, indignant “i got hit by an oil tanker.” 

alex rolls her eyes, but finds kara’s hand, smiling “i love you too.” 

“good.” kara says, reaching for alex’s hand and then maggie’s “because i love you both.” 

alex feels maggie’s smile as big as the moon, and god, it’s not perfect - but supergirl is alive and her girl is alive, and life is okay. 


	24. director sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> director sanvers + “there is enough room for the both of us.”

“there is enough room for both of us.” lucy says 

“all of us.” maggie corrects. 

alex looks at them dubiously “guys,” she says “i love you, i love you both, but that is a single bed.” 

“technically it’s two single beds,” lucy adds, 

“and a couch.” maggie pipes in. 

“you’re not sleeping on the couch.” alex retorts. 

“neither are you.” maggie fires back. 

“well i’m sure as hell not.” lucy adds “and we didn’t drive all the way up here, for the only weekend free we’ll probably have all year, to have two of us cramped in one bed and the other of us having flashbacks from college.” 

alex laughs, maggie grins and hands lucy the receiver for the hotel phone “call away babe.” 

lucy takes the phone “oh i will.” 

maggie wraps an arm around alex’s waist “this i can’t wait to see.” 


	25. director sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> director sanvers + “sit down, i’ll get it.”

“alex danvers, i swear if you get up i’m going to tie you to the bed.” lucy threatens “and not in the fun way either.” 

“is there a fun way to restrain an ill person to a bed?” maggie replies 

“i’m not ill.” alex sighs, swinging their legs to the ground and leaning back on their hands for a moment before standing up. 

yet the moment they do so, they’re swaying, eyes slammed shut and hand covering their mouth. maggie is by their side in a moment, hand on the small of alex’s back, guiding them back down to the bed “you have a fever,” maggie starts, 

“you’ve been coughing up a long all day. you’re been puking into the toilet,” lucy adds 

“face it,” maggie says, smoothing alex’s hair from their face “you’re sick.” 

“i don’t get sick.” alex grumbles, not fighting maggie as they moved back up under the freshly changed covers. 

“we both beg to differ.” maggie says, climbing back into bed with alex. 

“if i’m sick, why are you cuddling me?” alex asks as they’re pulled flush against maggie’s side.

“becasue you deserve it and i’ve got enough sick days in the bank i can afford to get sick.” maggie replies, running a hand through alex’s hair over and over again.

“you shouldn’t want to get sick.” alex grumbles. 

“i don’t want to get sick,” maggie says “i want to keep you comfortable. make sure you know you’re loved. there’s a difference.” 

alex can’t help the smile, even though it’s more of a grimace as they bury their head in maggie’s hip. they’re dozing within ten minutes and when the doorbell rings it’s lucy who stands up and whispers “stay there, i’ll get it.” 

because when alex ‘i don’t get ill’ danvers, is ill, they want pho. apparently and it’s lucy - the one who has to fly to an undisclosed location the next morning, who can’t afford to get sick. so she changes the sheets and orders the food and takes photos of her partners sleeping when they both doze off because goddamnit it they’re cute and they’re hers and she’s theirs. 

[even when alex is sick and grumbly and petulant]


	26. director sanvers - nb!alex - nsfw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> director sanvers + “Can you do director Sanvers with them having Alex restrained and maybe collared? Also, with praisekink Alex?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, my friends and followers, here we go. what i present to you in response to this prompt includes the following:
> 
> nb!alex danvers, intentional misgendering by eliza danvers, praisekink!alex danvers, use of rope as restraints, discussion and use of safewords, kink negotiating.
> 
> in the same verse as 
> 
>  
> 
> [Look Down [Don't Be Afraid]](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10478205)

dinner ends with what maggie will later describe as:

“a catastrophe i wish none of us saw coming”

in other words,

dinner comes to a shuddering halt when eliza sets down her wineglass, looks the long length of the table, straight towards alex and says “i was okay with the gay thing, alex, really i was.” and there’s a pause.

a pause where maggie’s stomach flips because she’s knows what’s coming.  

a pause where lucy reaches next to her and finds alex’s hands - knowing maggie’s hasn’t left alex’s knee since they sat down.

a pause where kara’s grip on her fork tightens so hard she warps the metal.

a pause wherein after eliza continues “i even worked my head around this,” she gestures to alex, maggie and lucy “this that you all have. because i could see it makes you happy. but” and again this pause

kara has reduced her fork to dust without the rest of the table noticing.

lucy breath is caught in her chest because oh no, oh no, oh no.

maggie has anger in her eyes because how dare this woman sit in kara’s kitchen and say what she’s about to.

“but at some point i have to wonder, i have to ask, are you doing this to hurt me? because all these, changes, all these ‘revelations’ - wanting me to use these, they, them pronouns. i lost my husband, alex, i’m not losing my /daughter/ too. i won’t do it. but if you’re standing by this, this non-binary thing, then, then you’re not my child.”

following this three things happen at once,

maggie sawyer stands up and says “get out.” with such directed rage that retrospectively it’s lucky that’s all she did.

lucy is pulling alex into her arms - alex who is crumbling, alex who has tears in their eyes, and sobs wracking their chest. alex who was so afraid of tonight, for this very reason, they’d barely eaten all day, barely been anything more than an anxious ball of nerves.

and lastly,

lastly kara stands up, her hand releases what was once a fork and she looks at eliza and she says,

“i’m ashamed of you.”

and the room falls quiet, save alex, crying into lucy’s shoulder. maggie is still standing, lucy, focusing on alex, heard kara’s words and they all know, oh they all know something is about to happen. they know because kara usually tries to play mediator, tries to play the go between for alex and eliza.

apparently though,

not tonight.

“i’m ashamed of you because i’ve watched alex do everything you’ve ever asked of them. they waited for me to get out of space club when i was in high school instead of hanging out with their friends because it’s what you wanted. i watched them go to the college you wanted them to. and i watched them study the major that you thought was best, never mind that alex may have liked something else more, or better, or wanted to consider something other than bioengineering.” kara’s voice is wavering, but she’s on a roll now, she’s saying all the things she’s never been able to say to eliza before.

she can say them now because alex is broken, kara can hear it in the beating of her heart, in alex’s breathing - or the lack there of. so she continues.

“alex has set everything aside for you, for their fathers last wishes, for me. and i’ve always been proud of them. since before i knew the deo existed, but especially after. i’m so proud of how alex is finally learning how to put themself first, and how they’re finally, finally finding true happiness. and, god,” kara says

“it’s not fair. it’s never been fair for them because you - you take in an alien, you lose a husband and you lay it all at alex’s feet. and they, they took, all of it. and now, now when your child, when your child is finally finding out who they really are. who they are inside, despite the expectations and buried emotions and the mess that is the lives we all lead, when they bounce back from upending their own world just to be true to themselves,” kara levels her gaze at eliza, but kara’s eyes are watering and her hands are shaking.

because sure, kara’s defended alex before physically, and emotionally - but never like this, never with as much of herself as she’s giving now.

this is kara picking a side,

once and for all. and alex is watching from the safe harbor of lucy’s arms and maggie is frozen where she stands, watching kara in all her defiance stand up to eliza.

[because if kara hadn’t, maggie and lucy would have]

[still might]

“just to be true to themselves.” kara repeats “that’s all they’re doing, trying to be happy while putting their life on the line every single day, for me, for the people they love, for you. and i don’t understand how you can just deny your child. how you can deny who they are because it makes you uncomfortable, when all they’ve ever done is everything you’ve ever asked and then some. i don’t understand how that isn’t good enough for the unconditional love of a mother.”

kara takes a breath, she sits down so hard the chair cracks and she bolts up again, looking drained, wiping tears from her face with her longsleeve.

“i’m ashamed of you.” she says, fingers tracing through the remains of her cutlery.

“kara,” alex chokes, and kara looks across the table at alex - both crying, both understanding truly, what love is.

“well,” eliza says, breaking the moment, and yet,

yet she can’t say anything more, she just splutters. she splutters and casts offended looks around the room as she stands but finds no sympathy in maggie’s eyes. when the door shuts it’s kara who stands up, who moves across the room to lock it. but it’s maggie who follows kara, who pulls kara into a tight hug, hand coming to the back of her head, cradling her there as kara cries for a moment-

‘it’s not fair.“ kara sniffs, stepping back, wiping her eyes “mags, it’s not fair.”

“i know,” maggie says, her voice thick with emotion, but finally, alex has found the ability to stand and alex is practically running to kara, so maggie steps back.

maggie watches as kara pulls alex into tight hug, and then both the danvers siblings are crying and gripping at each other and it’s kara saying “i’ve got you, i’ve got, i’ve got you.”

because it’s true.

it’s true now. more than it ever was before.

and this night, tonight, it’s about comfort and it’s alex needing the three people who love them most in the world supporting them. holding them together while she cries. it’s kara saying she can sleep on the couch, saying they can have her bed because alex isn’t up for going anywhere. and it’s alex tugging kara towards the bed and lucy saying

“you’re not escaping this kara,” with a soft smile in her voice.

and tonight is falling asleep in a bed that is not made for four people  mostly with maggie and lucy as the bread to a danvers sibling sandwich. it’s mostly maggie and lucy with their hands tangled over the duvet, not really sleeping, but not fully awake. just watching, protecting, being.

that’s what tonight is about.

the next night,

it’s about something else entirely.

–

it’s saturday, they’re all in alex’s apartment. alex is laying on the couch, basically atop maggie, while lucy cooks. maggie’s got one hand running across alex’s newly buzzed hair, and the other holding alex close across the small of their back. alex’s head is resting on maggie’s chest and they’ve been dozing most of the afternoon.

a morning of decompression, of give the danvers sibling time to talk about what kara said - what she did - what it could mean. mostly though it was kara crying and kara saying over and over again ‘i love you, i love you, i love you. you’re perfect just the way you. exactly who you are.’

now, now it’s the aftermath.

it’s the emotional exhaustion and it’s the recovery and it’s maggie and lucy making sure kara’s being looked after too. so when alex stirs,

when she presses a sleepy kiss to maggie neck and says, voice rough with gravel

“i love you.”

and then look across the top of the couch to lucy and saying “you too, i love you.”

lucy smiles and maggie is about to respond, but alex says “i don’t know what i would do without you.”

and they say it with a sigh and they say it with a tremble as they stand up, as maggie reaches for alex’s hand to pull them back, pull them closer. for a alex lets the contact longer, but stays standing, stretching their arms, cracking their back, their neck.

they look like they’re contemplating something, both of their girlfriends watching, hesitant, not entirely sure what’s going to happen next - but knowing whatever it is, they’re here for it.

and what does happen next isn’t exactly what they expect.

but it also makes perfect sense.

alex turns and they walk up the two steps to their bedroom, they duck  down, digging through a drawer. behind them, maggie and lucy share a look - they both know what that drawer is for, and it’s the first hint of what’s coming.

alex finds what they’re looking for and returns to the kitchen. for a moment they fiddle with the object in their hands, for a moment they look away, look down, and then

then alex places the collar on the table.

“i want to,” they say “i need.” they say “please.”

“alex,” lucy says, reaching and flipping off the burner “are you sure?”

there’s a moment where the hesitation is obvious in alex’s posture and they’re reaching for the collar when maggie says “she’s not saying no, alex,” her voice is gentle, gentle “we’re just double checking.”

they’re double checking because there are specific rules about the collar -

one: it’s alex’s. it’s theirs to put on, it’s their ultimate control. they only play that way, really that way, when alex feels like they’re ready, or feels like they need it.

two: any time they’re on a case, the collar stays in the drawer. it’s too risky, it’s too dangerous. [they tried it once, mid case, but the subdrop left alex reeling. left them all reeling.]

three: it’s not to be used in the shockwaves of them nearly dying, or being kidnapped, or otherwise being exposed to greater, life threatening danger than unusual. kara is included on the ‘one of them list’ not that she knows it, or will ever know it.

it’s the third rule that lucy and maggie are worried about, last night may not have been near death or kidnapping, but it was emotionally charged. and emotionally devastating - neither of them want to do anything that would even be close to taking advantage of alex’s potentially emotionally compromised state.

“alex,” maggie says again gently, gently “we can sit and talk about this, luce.” she nods her over.

alex starts to go for the single chair but lucy, reaches out of them “hey,” lucy says quietly “alex.”

and that’s all they need to be guided to the couch. lucy reaching out for them, solid and warm and stilling their shaking hand, to take a seat between maggie and lucy. to keep the collar in their hands, to be playing with it even as they sink back into the seat “i just,” they say “i - what i feel when we, when i have it on - i need that now.” alex finally says, their voice steady, sure.

lucy touches alex softly, raising their chin to meet lucy’s gaze “what do you feel when you have it on?”

“loved.” alex says at once “cared for. supported. and,” they pause, trying to find the way to say what’s deeper “and i don’t have to worry,” they settle on saying “about anything. i trust you two, all i have to focus on are you two.”

maggie leans over and presses a kiss to alex’s temple, drawing their attention to her. maggie’s voice is steady, her eyes sure, “you get why we’re worried though, right babe?”

alex nods, leaning into maggie’s kiss, with lucy’s hand around their shoulders “last night.” they say “with,” they pause, trying to find the words to describe what happened “with my mom.”

“yeah,” lucy nods, her fingers playing down alex’s forearm “last night. we - we care about you alex, we love you and we don’t,”

“we don’t want to do anything that would hurt you, or hurt us.” maggie takes over, her head trailing down alex’s back “but we want this if you do, we want to help you. i know,” maggie continues “i know what i get, what lucy gets, from when we play, and i know what you get when we play. so it’s just, yes - from us, okay? but let’s go slow.”

alex nods, they let out a long breath and there’s something like relief in the way their shoulders drop and their fingers stop playing with the collar “okay, yeah, slow.”

lucy’s hand comes to smooth along the back of alex’s hand, watching the small, contented smile the twitches at their lips “do you want to do this now?” she asks gently.

alex nods, glancing at them both “please.” they say.

lucy takes the lead. she and maggie may share the dominance when it comes to alex, when it comes to alex in their collar - but in the beginning it’s only one of them. it’s a firm voice, it’s a command, it’s helping alex get into the headspace.

“when you’re ready,” lucy says “collar on, wait by the bed.”

there’s a moment where alex has their eyes closed, where they’re centering themselves, taking a moment to start seeking the headspace they’re looking for. although tonight, tonight it may not be that hard. so desperate have they been for the comfort, for the stability that comes with the collar, with wearing it for their girls.

maggie catches lucys eye and waits for lucy’s nod before leaning in and kissing alex’s temple again “there’s no rush.” she whispers, and they wait,

wait for alex to stand up,

when they do, they’re stable. there’s no more shaking, their fingers undo the buckle of the belt, bring the cool, deep purple leather to their neck. alex shivers noticeably when the leather touches their skin, and after a beat of trying, they defer to lucy “can you,” alex asks, indicating to the buckle “i can’t quite get it.”

“course,” lucy murmurs and she stands on the couch.

maggie’s hand comes to lucy’s calf, more as a connecting touch than anything else. lucy takes the two ends of the collar, securing the buckle where the indentation into the leather is most worn. then her hands come to alex’s shoulders, massaging lightly, kissing their neck “there you go handsome.” lucy says “up by the bed.” she adds, that unmistakably laced with an edge of command “and strip, al.”

alex shivers and walks away, up to the bed. lucy and maggie watch them go, knowing they’ll wait, knowing how patient they are. so lucy takes the chance to check in with maggie, speaking quietly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear “how are you doing?” lucy asks “you know you can safeword.”

maggie shifts “i know,” she meets lucy’s gaze “i’m yellow, i just, i don’t want to hurt them.”

“we won’t.” lucy assures her, hand resting at the base of maggie’s neck, pulling her in for a gentle, gentle kiss “we’re both looking out for them. and tonight, this is for them. about making them feel good, about making them feel loved and wanted and safe.” lucy says “okay mags? but if you feel uncomfortable, you call it. we talk about it. don’t ignore yourself just for alex.”

maggie kisses lucy again, breathing out quietly “how’d i get so lucky?”

lucy smiles, smirks “colour, sawyer?”

“green.” maggie replies “you?”

“green, baby.”

maggie wrinkles her nose, but leans in to kiss lucy for a moment longer, lacing her hands with lucys “let’s go make sure they know just how loved they are.”

“exactly.” lucy replies, standing, offering her hand to maggie, pulling them up.

on her feet, with maggie tucked into her side, lucy looks over at alex and they’re, well, they’re stunning. patiently waiting, clothes folded netatly, and alex kneeling by the bed, hands behind their back. lucy bites her lip, feeling maggie drop back, letting lucy lead on this still. keeping the consistency for alex.

alex who’s naked except for the collar.

alex who tips their head back into lucy’s touch, a touch that guides them to their feet “you’re so good for us alex.” lucy says, voice low, voice commanding, but gentle, but rewards “waiting. and fuck, do you know how good you look?” lucy runs their hands down alex’s back, down their sides.

her touch is feather light against the scars, against the scrapes and the bruises with varying degrees of freshness “handsome.” lucy informs alex “all handsome and all ours.” lucy says “can you get up on the bed for us?”

alex does, their movements fluid, their movements easy in this space. were it’s just them, where it’s just the three of them and nothing of the outside world to interfere.

“on my back?” alex asks, sitting parallel with the headboard, unsure and leaning back on their hands.

“yeah,” lucy nods, the glances at maggie “mags is going to tell you how good you look, help you relax while i get some things ready. colour?”

“green,” alex breathes, gaze flitting from lucy to maggie, maggie who pulls off her shirt, and drops it to the floor.

lucy allows herself a moment to watch, a moment to soak in the sight of maggie straddling alex’s lap and tipping their head back. a moment to soak up maggie kissing alex gently, gently, gently with her hands cupping alex’s face.

lucy watches, wonders how she got so lucky, even as she watches maggie pull back asking - in a voice so low she almost doesn’t catch it - as maggie asks “colour al?”

and alex breaths “green maggie, i’m green. you?”

“green.” maggie replies, exhaling and leaning into kiss alex onto her back, onto the bed.

lucy tears her gaze way, content that everyone is happy, everyone is consenting, everyone feels loved and safe.

she opens the drawer with a soft hitch, and looks at the collection of toys they’ve amassed. of the options, lucy knows she doesn’t want vibrators, or the strap ons tonight. although they’re fun, this isn’t what tonight is about for them, it’s about giving and giving to alex. it’s about reassuring that they’re both here, that they love them.

so lucy grabs only one thing from the drawer, the rope.

deep purple, matching the collar and neatly coiled since their last use, the rope sits weighted in lucy’s hand. she leans in and closes the drawer, turning to see alex and maggie with their hands tangled, with maggie pressing alex’s hands into the bed, not letting them touch, but not letting them be alone either.

lucy smirks, satisfied that she and maggie are on the same page about tonight.

maggie is kissing and sucking and nipping at alex’s neck, at their chest, at the swell of alex’s breasts. the first time alex moans that night, lucy wants to remember that noise forever. it cuts above the sounds of the city outside, swells inside the room and is followed by maggie’s ragged “fuck, alex, you’re amazing when you let us know exactly what you like. you’re so good.”

“and so are you.” lucy supplies, a hand trailing down maggies back “taking such good care of alex.”

maggie shifts off the bed “you’re a little overdressed,” she says, but it’s half a question, the power dynamics for them anyway still open.

lucy takes a moment to enjoy the sensation of both alex’s and maggie’s eyes on her.

“you want to do something about that sawyer?” lane challenges, lightly, smirking.

“i think alex does.” maggie replies, nodding to the hungry look in alex’s eyes.

lucy sets the rope down on the bed, letting alex take a moment to look at it, to see that’s where the night is headed. then lucy says “come here,” and alex moves fluidly, moves easily to the edge of the bed.

they’re eager, they want to touch but lucy knows they’ll wait until they’re given permission. and on another night lucy would drag it out, keep them at close but not quite.

except that is not what tonight is about.

tonight is about alex and support and love and keeping the night before as far from all their minds as possible. so lucy says, with a soft smirk “shirt first, you can use your hands.”

and they’re pulling alex into a kiss, her wording deliberate, informing them that no hands will be happening in the future, a slightly distant future because right now lucy is kissing alex. right now it’s alex’s hands at the hem of lucy’s shirt and it’s alex deliberately dragging their knuckles across the bare skin beneath the shirt as they remove it.

lucy knows alex wants more, can feel it in their body and the way alex is forcing themself to wait. kissing, letting lucy nip at her lower lip, swipe her tongue into alex’s mouth, dominating lightly. alex’s hands run down lucy’s ribs, feather light, drawing shivers from lucy’s body under the guise of moving to the bra.

“yes,” lucy breathes into alex’s mouth, feeling their pause, fingers at the clasp of her bra.

when it comes off, it leaves lucy just in ncpd sweatpants, maggie’s gotten down to just her boxers and alex wants more. alex needs more, so lucy gives. lucy’s hands come to alexs hips, gentle pressure that alex succumbs to easily, guiding her down. guiding her down until lucy can let her hand tangle in alex hair, buzzed at the back, but still with longer parts, longer parts that lucy can grip and use to place alex on her knees.

lucy can feel alex’s breath washing over her hips, can feel her hands light and resting at the waistband of lucy’s sweatpants.

“mouth.” lucy says and alex’s hands drop their side.

she feels alex kiss the skin just about her waistband, kiss it gently, sucking before taking the material into her mouth and tugging. there’s a moment where the sweatpants aren’t following, and then lucy shifts, tilting her hips and they go easily. lucy watches, and fuck, fuck, fuck.

“you’re amazing.” lucy breaths “so good for us alex.”

alex preens and they straighten on their knees and lucy releases their hair “help maggie out of the cute boxers she’s got on.”

[black with white ghosts, usually reserved for halloween, or whenever someone really needs to do laundry]

alex shifts, still on their knees, taking a moment and looking up at maggie, asking the question without words

and maggie knows, of course she knows, so her response is easy, it’s “you can use your hands al.”

and alex does, hands at the waistband of maggie’s boxers, pulling them down and kissing the exposed skin as they do so. maggie watching, hissing and saying a steady stream of “yes, yes, fuck, you’re so good for me. you’re so good for us. you’re perfect.” all the while alex, taking their time, time maggie gives them, time lucy gives them.

until finally the boxers are in a pool at maggies feet and she’s stepping out of them, saying “up on the bed for us alex.”

“hands around the headboard.” lucy adds “we’re going to tie you up, colour?”

alex is so slow to respond, slow to find the words they want to say as they move up the bed. lucy runs a hand down maggie’s bicep, calming her, reminding her silently that’s they’re all in this. and when alex settles on the bed, hands above their head, gripping the headboard, she replies “green.” they say, “i’m green.”

“i’m going to go slow.” lucy reminds, “if it hurts, or feels too tight, you’ll tell me?”

alex nods, but their eyes are closed and maybe on another night. maybe on another night that would be okay, but not tonight. tonight lucy says “eyes open for us.” her hands running feather light down alex’s chest, a hand splaying across their hip.

when alex opens their eyes, looking up to see maggie settled next to them, and lucy leaning forward to kiss them. a kiss alex takes eagerly, “i’ll tell you.” they say “i’ll tell you. i’ll be good.”

“we know.” maggie replies, tracing patterns along the inside of alex’s thigh “you already are being so good, so good for us.”

alex tilts their hips up, seeking more of maggie’s contact, but that’s against the rules and they know. they know so when maggie retracts her hand entirely, they let out a whimper, they still and maggie puts a hand on alex’s hip “we’re going to look after you al,” she says “but you remember the rules?”

with the collar, when they’re playing with the collar on, there are rules. rules beyond the three that come with even introducing the collar to a night of play, these exist because of what the collar is meant to do for alex. these rules took a long time to piece together, many conversations and questions and it’s all part of the play.

“tell us.” lucy says, her hands working on unspooling the rope, checking it for tangles, for kinks or anything that could unnecessarily abrade the skin of alex’s forearms and wrists.

“i need permission to come.” alex says, “if i want more, i have to ask.”

“you’re so good.” lucy says, and she’s satisfied with the condition of the rope “colour, handsome?”

“green.” alex replies and lucy looks across her body, towards maggie.

“and you, mags, color?”

“green.” maggie nods, a hand still pressing into alex’s hip and the other tracing patterns across alex’s thigh.

so lucy focuses on the rope, on securing it around alex’s wrists first, looping it three times. all the while lucy is watching alex, alex who’s focusing on maggie’s lips. because comfortable as alex may be with being tied up -

as long a way as they’ve all come from that first time with the deep purple rope -

tonight is special. tonight is different, and yet in many ways it’s just like every other night where the collar is involved. because the collar means certain things and they all know it,

so maggie distracts, maggie teases, maggie is kissing alex’s hips in just the right places. her fingers are brushing lightly, lightly against alex’s center. so perilously close to where alex is dripping and alex is doing their best not to writhe, but it’s hard.

so when lucy has secured alex’s hands above their head, secured them to the headboard,

maggie keeps going, and lucy steps back.

this is alex’s first orgasm of the night. with two of maggie’s fingers curling inside of their, maggie’s mouth, maggies tongue on their clit and alex begging,

“please, please, please, please.”

and maggie replying, mouth still pressed against alex “please what babe, what do you want al?”

and god, the moan alex gives, it seems to break free from thei chest and rise in their throat because alex wants and wants and wants,

so maggie will give,

but maggie, and lucy, they want to hear alex ask.

so they do.

“i want to come, p-please.” alex half whines, and the way their voice cracks on their words, the way they’re trembling from keeping still against maggie’s fucking the,, maggie bringing them to the edge.

“come for us.” maggie breaths, knowing alex could probably handle a third finger, but knowing the evening is young - so she holds off.

not that she’s holding off for long because then alex is coming. alex is coming hard and there’s almost nothing else maggie enjoys more than the feeling of alex, or maggie, coming in her mouth. feeling alex clenching at her fingers, finally unable to stop their hips from following maggie’s rhythm and chasing the orgasm all the way through.

if maggie looks up she can see alex with their head tipped back,  throat exposed, collar stark against their neck.

on their come down, alex’s breathing stuttering and trembling and their entire body straining against the ropes, tugging and pulling and secure in the knowledge that they’re not going anywhere.

maggie kisses alex’s inner thighs, pulling her fingers out slowly, listening to alex hiss and then sigh happily. maggie rocks on to her elbows, kissing alex’s hips, then glancing at lucy “how’s it going lane?” she asks, wiping her chin with the back of her forearm.

in response, because lucy may or may not have temporarily lost the ability to speak - watching maggie get alex off like this always, always does that to her, lucy walks over to the bed. her hand curls around maggie’s wrist and brings maggie’s fingers to her lips, sucking them.

and fuck,

oh fuck,

maggie can hear alex moan as they watch, and she can feel lucy’s tongue dragging up her fingers and between them, and maggie’s now the one at a loss for words. just as lucy finds hers.

“you’re so good,” lucy hums, trailing her hands down alex’s abs, feeling the muscles flutter and tense and splaying her hand and feeling the warm heat rise from their body “you’re ours.” she says “and we’ve got all night to remind you of that.” she smirks “all ours.”

alex moans, nods and then moans again as lucy shifts away from alex, a hand dipping down and then lucy’s playing with herself and saying, looking at alex dead on “i could watch you and maggie all night.” lucy say, biting her lip as she palms her clit lightly, lightly “keep you tied up, get make to keep you coming over and over and over again.” lucy’s eyes are shining, soaking up alex’s reaction “and just touching myself like this.”

she grins the heel of her hand against herself, moaning, her hips bucking forward “get that fancy vibrator of yours out of the drawer, ride it.”

[lucy likes to think she has the willpower to do that all night, and hell, maybe one day they’ll see how long it takes for her to cave - but she’s selling it to alex. and to maggie for that matter.]

“lucy,” alex moans, and their hands are gripping at the rope, curling around and lucy can see how hard alex is working to keep their hips still, their hips pressed into the mattress.

“hmm babe? something you need?” lucy asks “something you want?”

alex nods, alex bites their lip. they know what’s coming next, they know what lucy’s going to ask

“handsome,” lucy says, letting her hand drop so alex and maggie both can see how wet she is “i think you know the rules, i need you to be so good for me, for maggie, can you tell us what you want?”

alex will.

they’re working on this, working up to the rule that is essentially - kisses are free, but touching you have to ask for - so this, so taking a deep breath with maggie still settled between their legs, pressing an encouraging kiss to their thigh,

this is something they can do.

“i want to make you feel good.” alex starts “i want to taste you lucy, please, i want to get you off.”

lucy bites her lip, maggie mumbles “fuck danvers, you’re perfect.” she’s saying “fucking perfect.”

alex feels their face flush, and lucy is moving forward again, lucy is leaning over and rewarding alex with a kiss, a deep kiss, a hand trailing down their side, drawing out a shiver.

“okay,” lucy says, her lips still brushing alex’s as she speaking “because you asked so nicely, and you’re being so good for us,” and as she speaks, lucy is shifting.

she’s straddling alex, grinding down on alex’s stomach for a moment, hearing maggie hiss behind her. then she’s moving up, looking down at alex directly beneath her “you don’t come until i do, okay?” she says, “and i think maggie really wants to make you come?”

alex groans green, her neck straining, wanting to badly to taste lucy already.

“and mags,” lucy’s saying “be good for me and drive alex wild.”

“yes ma'am,” maggie replies, coming out as a content sigh, but her words are muffled, she’s already using broad strokes of her tongue to taste alex, to start winding alex up again - back towards the place of ecstasy that leaves them ragged and happy and loved.

at the same time, lucy is lowering herself slowly, careful to make sure alex can breath, but also that alex can use their mouth exactly how they both want them to.

and like every other time lucy feels alex’s tongue on her,

lucy moans, because either of them - maggie and alex - they can both make lucy see stars. where maggie is best with a combination of stroking fingers and tongue, alex can do unimaginable things with their tongue.

honestly,

lucy’s had plenty of sex. quickies in bar bathrooms, quickies in the fucking dessert. some really amazing, passionate sex. but all of that, all of that pales in comparisons to sex she’s had since admitting polyamory is something she wants.

and anything her brain could further process,

is now gone.

because fucking fuck,

alex danvers with their tongue should be fucking illegal.

it’s not fair, lucy thinks, really it isn’t. because she knows she’s good in bed. but alex,

alex right now?

“fuck,” lucy breathes, one hand stabilizing herself on the headboard, the other moving down to alexs hair “so good. perfect, perfect, keeping going al, fuck.”

and her grip tightens in their hair, lucy’s hips are canting and everything about the moment feels perfect.

lucy tips her head back, keeping an ear for alex knocking against the headboard. but instead of hearing that, she hears her own moans, her own groans. she hears maggie fucking alex, three fingers it has to be by now. and fuck,

fuck lucy /feels./

she feels ever moan, every groan and whimper that rises in alex’s throat - lucy feels every. single. one. and the vibrations go straight to lucy’s clit, or it feels like they do because that’s where alex’s mouth is.

and lucy, lucy’s grip on alex’s hair is tight and alex is must be close because lucy looks back and sees maggie slowing.

not stopping, but slowing, but toying with alex, keeping them on the edge with exactly the right strokes.

and lucy is close herself. getting closer.

then alex does,

the thing.

lucy doesn’t know what it is about the combination of sucking and pressure and just the faintest hint of teeth in the situation that sends lucy over the edge, but then she is,

and she’s a goner.

saying, screaming more like, alex’s name in breathless bursts. somewhere in there lucy finds the energy, and the coordination to roll off of alex so they can breathe. so they can whimper and moan and say “please, please, mags, please i can’t, i need, i need-”

they both know what alex needs. what they want, and lucy, with her hand rolling one of alex’s nipples between two fingers asks “need what?”

“come,” alex whimpers “come, i need ot come, fuck, fuck, please.”

so they do,

with lucy’s mouth on theirs, swallowing the scream. and it’s maggie, three fingers, knuckle deep with alex’s clit in her mouth -

alex is gone.

and it’s a sight for both lucy and maggie.

or what maggie can see of it.

more what she feels because it’s alex’s hips, their back arching and shoulders pressing into the bed. they’re pulling at the ropes, gripping them white knuckled. and then coming down, coming down as lucy pulls away form the kiss, stroking their chest, and maggie kissing their twitching thigh and alex breathing hard.

harder still and their eyes are screwed shut. which is okay until it’s ten seconds, fifteen and their breathing hasn’t calmed.

“alex,” maggie says, slipping off the bed, her own need to get off urgent, but not as urgent as making sure alex is okay “alex, colour?”

with a shuddering breath alex opens her eyes, they say “yellow.” slowly, raggedly.

“okay,” maggie says, sitting down on the edge of the bed, “okay, that’s okay. you’re safe babe. you’re okay. what do you need?”

“hands.” alex chokes, “please.”

maggie grabs the scissors on the bedside table and cuts the rope clear of the bed in seconds. she works at the knots until alex’s wrists are free and the rope is getting flung to the floor.

“you’re okay.” lucy is whispering, “you’re safe. you’re loved. alex, you’re okay.”

they’re nodding, hands covering their face for a moment before dropping to their side, seeking maggie and lucy’s touch both “i’m okay.” alex echoes after a long moment of breathing, of soaking up the reassuring touches of their girlfriends “i just, the ropes,” they take a deep breath “i need to feel you guys.” they say.

“you’ve got us. we’re not going anywhere.” maggie says, lacing their hands, then asking “do you want to stop?”

alex considers, shakes their head “no, i’m okay.” she looks to maggie “you haven’t gotten off yet.”

there’s hesitation for maggie “al,” she says “i don’t need to get off, it’s-”

“maggie,” alex says, sitting up, squeezing maggie’s hand “mags it’s okay. i’m okay. i want to keep going. i just, the ropes were too much in that moment.”

“okay.” maggie nods “colour al?”

“i’m green,” alex replies “you?”

“green,” maggie hums, and the both look to lucy.

“colour luce?” alex asks

lucy squeezes alex’s hands “green babe, bright green.”

alex sighs, smiles, leans back into the bed, into the pillows.

“i think,” lucy says “maggie needs to get off.” she straights “and i think you’re going to help her alex. colour?”

“green,” alex says “can i touch you mags, please?”

maggie defers to lucy, who says “you’re going to come too alex,” she says “one last time for us.” she continues “because you’ve been so good, and you’re so perfect and we love you. and you deserve. so you’re going to help mags get off, anyway you want - as long as you ask. and i’m going to show you how good you are.”

alex hums green, then turns their attention to maggie “i want to kiss you.” they say “please. and can you, fingers. i want to use my hand.”

maggie leans up, kisses alexs gently, gently “of course.”

and this time it’s alex finding the right angle with their hand so kissing maggie and fucking maggie are not mutually exclusive. it’s lucy scraping clipped nails down alex’s stomach, down their side and taking her first taste of alex that wasn’t from maggie’s fingers.

this time it’s a maggie’s groans and alex’s moans that fill the room and it’s tender and frantic and it’s building.

it’s bruising and lucy can feel it, can feel it in alex’s body and feels the way their holding out. holding out for maggie to come, and maggie will, maggie does with two of alex’s fingers inside and a thumb on her clit.

it’s maggie tipping her head back, it’s maggie moaning alex’s name as she comes into alex’s mouth, into her neck. her neck where maggie is pressing her forehead, her hips moving in shuddering jerks, alex coaxing the last of maggie’s orgasm from her and still, still somehow on the edge themself.

it’s the only sound lucy hears until, before maggie’s even finished coming down, alex is asking in half words “please, luce, luce.”

and right now, that’s good enough.

right now it’s all lucy needs to hear before saying, “yes, come for us alex.”

and alex does.

on cue.

and the pair of them, the goddamn lights of lucy’s life, kissing and touching softly as they come down, it’s the highlight of lucy’s whole night.

she moves slowly up the bed, hand trailing up alex’s leg, settling on their other side. maggie collapses with a thump onto the mattress when they break and alex turns to kiss lucy.

“you taste good.” alex says

lucy smirking, running a hand through their sweaty hair “of course i do,” lucy says “i taste like you.”

she kisses their jaw, their neck.

“you’re so good for us alex.” she hums “you’re perfect and your ours. with,” lucy says “and without the collar.” she continues “you’re ours, we’re yours. you’ve always got us.”

alex swallows and lucy can see the collar shift under the movement, can see the tears bright in alex’s eyes.

“can you help,” alex asks, turning so the buckle of the collar is exposed “I just, i need us.”

one of their hands finds maggie’s, wrapping around her shoulders protectively, and as lucy pulls the collar free, seeing the sweat that’s collected there and leaning forward to swipe her tongue across it, licking alex’s neck gently - feeling them shiver.

“you’re so good.” maggie mumbles, sleep already tugging at her “and you too lucy, checking in on us, taking care of us.”

“on the topic of,” lucy says gently “what do you need mags?”

“water.” she croaks “pajamas.”

alex starts to shift, but lucy presses a hand into her stomach “let me,” she says, asks “please. let me take care of you.”

alex nods, settles down again and lucy leans forward, kissing her forehead “thank you.” lucy replies.

there’s something about the aftercare that lucy needs. they all need it, especially after alex wearing the collar, but particularly for lucy, where she so often tops and commands, the time in this space, to just, look after the people she loves. to focus on them and only them. on making sure they’re safe and loved and warm and god -

it’s all the things lucy can’t do when she’s in dc. when she’s co-running the deo. when she’s got maggie in the ncpd saving lives and alex in the deo making sure kara, and everyone else stays alive. lucy needs this, the aftercare, the whole night, but really her aftercare, to center herself, to reassure her worries.

so she finds maggie’s comfiest pajamas - a standford hoodie and boxers, christmas this time. and lucy find’s alex’s favourite pajamas - ncpd sweatpants and an army long sleeve. reminders of each other, of the lives they lead connected.

lucy has their clothes in one hand,  and gets two glasses of water with the other. bringing them all back to the bed and nudging maggie to sit up, coaxing her into changing. alex too, although with this, lucy helps. not out of neglect of maggie, but in sometimes maggie needs a little bit of space to process after these nights. so lucy will give and keep watch as she helps alex into a shirt, into their pants.

kissing alex gently, making sure they drink water.

it’s only after they’re settled that lucy takes a moment for herself.

takes a moment to find pajamas for herself, to brush her teeth and drink water. all she really wants to do is climb into bed, find alex, who needs physical contact and soft assurances whispered into their ear. and tonight, tonight alex cries, but it’s for different reasons than the night before.

tonight alex cries because tonight was everything they needed. it was all the reassurances and it was all the comfort and safety and all the reminders they needed that

“you’re loved.” maggie whispers, shifting closer, into alex’s arms “so loved alex.”

and

“we’ve got you. we’ve got you.” lucy soothes, the tears, relief and grief together making alex’s shoulders shake,

and this,

tangled in bed together,

letting alex fall apart, letting them break,

but never, never letting them go through it alone,

it’s what love is all about.

[and lucy leaning across a finally sleeping alex to kiss maggie, to reach across and find maggie’s hand, to read the expressions on maggies face - what watching alex be rejected by eliza brought up for maggie and whispering, promising

“we’ve got you too.” and “i love you.” and “sleep mags, i’m here, alex is here.”]

they’re in this together.


	27. director sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> director sanvers + “can i kiss you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo idk where this really came from, but enjoy!

maggie is cooking and her girlfriends are not speaking to each other. alex is home, but leaning against the balcony door, searching for words if her posture is anything to go by. lucy is sitting at the island, looking down at the same page that’s been in front of her for the past half an hour.

and maggie is cooking. 

she’s cooking because they all need to eat, and she’s cooking because it gives her something to do. something other than focus on the fact that alex came home and slammed the door behind her with kara like force. something other than focus on the fact that lucy followed, doing nearly the exactly the same thing. 

and it would be funny if alex hadn’t spun around and snapped “i don’t want to hear it lucy.” with an anger that this apartment hasn’t seen in a long time. 

and lucy replying, just as fierce “and here i was thinking you were going to apologize, alex.” 

maggie knows little about why her girlfriends are fuming, and even less about why they’re not speaking to each other. but she does know that dinner’s going to be ready in fifteen minutes and if the pair don’t boil over by then, it’s happening at the dinner table. so maggie cooks and she watches, knowing that her girlfriends respect her enough to leave her as the neutral party. 

lucy caves with ten minutes to go. alerting them all with a soft sigh and putting her pen down on the counter. she slides off the stool and approaches alex, but stops five feet or so short, hands at her side, a gesture of surrender “alex,” she says, the anger gone from her voice, the ferocity boxed away “i don’t want to be mad at you here.” 

alex deosn’t turn around “oh, just here?” 

“alex.” lucy sighs “you know what i mean. can we at least talk about what happened?” 

there’s a pause where the tension builds and then alex is saying “sure, we can talk.” and adding “do you want to talk about the part where kara almost died today? or the part where you had me physically restrained so i couldn’t help her?” 

maggie stills, stirring a pot of boiling water, but following the conversation with interest. she’d known something big had happened at the deo, but that everyone came away safe. kara worse for wear and power dampened, but spending the night at james’. she’d assumed the tension between her girlfriends was related to the days events, but this, 

this sounds big.

“alex,” lucy says “you know as well as i do that if you’d gone into that cell to try and save supergirl you would have gotten killed. i know you don’t agree with the call i made, but if i’d let you go in there, you’d be dead.” 

“so you did me some big favour? getting vasquez to cuff me to a pole? why didn’t i realize it sooner.” 

lucy is trying to be patient, but maggie can see her frustration rising “alex,” lucy says, her words clipped “i know you’d die for supergirl, or me, or maggie, or anyone in the deo. but it wasn’t going to happen on my watch. it wasn’t going to happen unnecessarily.” 

alex turns, her eyes flashing “what was unnecessary was kara suffering like that. what was unnecessary was how long it took to get the alien attacking her subdued. what was unnecessary was you dressing me down in front of the deo for doing what i’ve always done. she may just be supergirl to you lucy, but she’s my sister. she’s my little sister. and i-” alex shakes her head, tears in her eyes “and i’ve always got to have her back. because she needs me. she needs me and i need her, and part of that means putting my life on the line for her. it means taking a hit so she has a moment to catch her breath. it’s how we work, i’ve always protected her.” 

“i know you have.” lucy says, taking a step towards alex “and you know i care about kara, alex, you know she’s not just some asset to the deo for me, for any of us. but alex,” she pauses “alex you don’t get to just, leap into battle, not when we have better options. not when there are other ways to solve the problem without risking lives.” 

“and what about kara’s? or were you not close enough to hear her screaming, lucy?” alex challenges.

and it’s lucy who caves again, her shoulders pinned back, “you would have died the moment you opened that cell door alex and you know it. and you can be angry at me, you can blame me for kara being beat up and without her powers, but i was doing my job. vasquez was doing theirs. when we’re at work, you’re one of my agents and it’s my job to keep you safe. to keep you alive. you want to be mad at me when we’re at work, fine.” lucy sighs, her hands are shaking, “you want to hate me at work, fine.” 

“but alex,” lucy says “i can’t have you hating me here too. not in our home.” 

alex’s head snaps up “i don’t hate you luce,” 

“it feels like you do.” 

alex lets out a long breath and maggie turns off the stove, reaching under the sink to strain the pasta “i don’t hate you.” alex says “i’m just,” she pauses, looking for her words “i’m angry.” she settles on “and i’m angry because i couldn’t help kara, because i knew i shouldn’t go into that cell, and you’re the one who stopped me. I just - she’s my sister luce, she my sister and i’d do anything for her. anything at all.” 

“and you were scared and you were desperate and there was a moment where we all thought kara might not make it out of there. we all felt that alex,” lucy swallows “it’s okay to be scared, and it’s okay to be angry. you can even be angry at me for having you cuffed again, i know i said i’d never do it, but,” she says, trailing off, unsure where to end. 

“but who we are at work, and who we are here, at home, need to have some degrees of separation.” alex finshes. 

“yeah.” lucy says, looking down.

maggie is plating pasta, mixing in avocado and diced tomatoes, unsure if they’re actually going to be eating in a few minutes, but figuring it’s better to be prepared. as she’s reaching for glasses, maggie hears alex say “i don’t want to be mad at you, here, or at work. you did,” she continues “you did save my life. i’m still just, wired. i can hear kara’s screaming luce, it - it’s all i hear.” 

maggie’s pouring water for everyone as lucy reaches out for alex’s hand “like i said,” lucy says softly “you were scared, you’re angry you couldn’t help her, I get that. and,” she hesitates “and i’m sorry for going at you in front of everyone.” 

“you were scared, angry that you couldn’t help her.” alex parrots. 

lucy smiles, and maggie feels the tension in her spine loosen slightly at the sight of their hands squeezing. and she damn near smiles when lucy rocks up onto her toes and asks “ **can i kiss you,** alex, please? **”**

alex’s response is to lean down slightly, to kiss her, a free hand coming to the small of lucy’s back. maggie lets them have their moment, knowing the tension won’t be gone, but at least they talked. at least they communicated. 

it’s alex’s phone going off that breaks them apart and maggie’s reaching across the counter to pass the device to her girlfriend. a glance at the screen tells maggie that it’s kara, and alex answers with a “hey, are you okay?” and a greateful glance at maggie. 

maggie shifts her gaze to lucy, who’s taking a few deep breaths and smoothing her skit. their eyes meet and lucy lets out a long sigh, smiling and asking “so how was your day?” 

“paperwork.” maggie replies “paperwork for days, luce.” 

“thrilling.” lucy replies, walking around the island and pulling maggie into a kiss “i’m sorry, about,” she gestures around. 

“don’t be.” maggie assures her, “and i’ll tell alex the same thing. i’m just glad you two talked about it. are working it out.” 

there’s the sound of alex hanging up and then her hands on maggie’s hips, over lucys “that was kara.” she says “she’s okay, but she’s not, okay. james is driving her to her apartment. i’m going to meet her there.” she looks apologetic, looking at lucy “i can ask him to stay-” 

“go, alex,” lucy says gently, rotating her hand to squeeze alex’s “we’re good.” 

“i love you.” alex replies, and then presses a kiss to maggie neck “and i love you.” 

maggie smiles, “two seconds and i’ll put your food into a tupperware box.” 

“you’re a saint.” 

“say that tomorrow when it’s your turn to cook dinner.” maggie replies, shifting away from lucy to find a container for alex. 

“does it count if I order out?” alex asks 

“that’s my trick,” lucy says “you can’t steal it.” 

alex laughs “not if i order something other than pizza, lane.” 

“whatever,” lucy smiles, feeling almost relaxed for the first time tonight “you love pizza.” 

“and i love you both.” alex replies, accepting the box from maggie and heading for the door “i’ll let you know when i’m at kara’s.” 

and then she’s walking back across the room to lucy, pulling her into a deep kiss “thank you.” she whispers “for saving my life.” and alex pulls maggie into just deep a case “and thank you, for being perfect.” 

and then she’s gone, her sister is waiting after all, and alex’s girlfriends understand. 


	28. director sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> director sanvers + “you’re important too.”

it’s late, or early, depending on how you look at it. right now you’re not focusing on the time however, it’s not exactly relavent. not with lucy fresh from dc and looking more shattered than you - or alex - have ever seen her. you were talking with alex quietly, half talking, half paying attention to the television when the door had opened and lucy, lucy had walked in. 

immediatly you could tell something was off. you’re used to the normal affects that washington has on lucy’s posture, on the bags under her eyes, on the way she seems to shed a skin when she walks in the door. but tonight, tonight she’s dropping her bags and she’s saying “fuck washington.” 

which is, expected. 

“they,” she starts, and you’re standing, alex is standing, but lucy is speaking “they have the audacity to-” but she can’t even finish the sentence “i hate that they’re right.” 

“woah, hey,” alex is saying, a hand coming to hover just behind lucy’s back “can i touch you?” they ask, but when lucy shakes her head alex lets their hand drop to their side “how can we help luce?” 

lucy swallows, she clenches and unclences her fists. she takes a moment to breath, unsteady and then she opens her eyes. she looks from alex, to you and back again. she closes her eyes, biting her lip and so clearly trying to fight tears. 

“luce,” you say gently, gently “you can let it out. we’ve got you.” 

lucy nods, still not opening her eyes but when she speaks, her voice is still laced with so much anger, but also something else, something you cock your head and try to hear better “everytime i go, i have to,” she splutters a little “i have to fight these stupid white men. i have to convince them that i’m right, that we don’t need to persecute aliens, or round them up, or shoot them on sight. and i just, i’m used to that. i can argue with politicians, with the military, with my father. but-” and her voice wavers, her eyes open and they’re shining with tears “i had to speak to a committee today.” she says, and her fingers twitch, reaching for alex’s hand. 

alex obliges, lacing their fingers with lucy’s, thumb moving in gentle patterns. 

“it was about deo funding. so it’s black book, the meeting never happened, and they - they told me it’s important work, what the deo does. but they,” she swallows hard “my father is on that committee.” she settles on “and to him i’m always major lucy lane, co-director of the deo. i’m never just his daughter. and the things he said-” she takes a short breath “says the work that j’onn does, that supergirl does, that’s important. but me…” 

her voice breaks and you see the tension across alex’s entire body seize, and then release. just for lucy, just for their girl. 

lucy’s hand reaches for yours and you fill in the gaps of what she can not say “he’s wrong, lucy.” you say “ **you’re important too.”**

“he’s supposed to love me.” lucy says “he’s -” 

“i know.” you say, because god you do. and this is a fresh pain you understand “and he’s wrong lucy. he’s wrong and it’s his loss that he can’t see all the amazing, important work you’re doing for the deo, for the country.” 

“the deo is better with you.” alex assures her, “we’re all better for having you in our lives.” alex promises and you hear the sincerity in their voice - but you also hear the anger. 

which is why, three months later, when you heard that general lane arrived at the deo for another army facilitied testing of supergirl, that alex punched him, you’re not surprised. apparently it was a no warning, no apology, just walked into the deo command center and decked general lane. 

lucy, who had been sitting in her office, watched it happen and never felt so loved. even as j’onn, who saw the whole thing happen, blinked and said “i’m sorry general, i must have been talking to agent schott. i didn’t see anything.” 

and agent vasquez pulled up the tapes, but it showed nothing. 

and supergirl stood between the general and her sibling, daring him to do something. and alex?

they walk into lucy office, after getting paperwork from pam in regards to the black eye general lane is now sporting, and had kissed lucy senseless for a moment, saying “that was for you.” and “i know he’s your dad, but-” 

“he deserved it.” is what lucy said then, and says again now as she finishes telling you the story. alex asleep with their head in lucy’s lap, and their legs in maggie’s. 

and honestly, 

you’re kind of jealous alex got to him first. 


	29. director sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> director sanvers + “stay there, i’m coming to get you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [or: maggie’s parents ruin brunch]

maggie hadn’t even been remotely aware her parents were in national city - how could she? they hadn’t spoken to her in over a decade. and not for a lack of trying on maggie’s part. at some point though she’d stopped hurting herself like that and just given up. which means that when she and lucy walk into lucy’s favourite brunch spot - with a mission for pancakes and fresh orange juice, the last thing maggie expects is to see her parents sitting at a two person table by the window.

they’ve barely walked into the venue when maggie notices them, she stops in the doorway so suddenly that lucy bumps into her back. lucy seems to register everything at once, the stiffness across maggie’s shoulders, the way maggie’s stopped breathing, isn’t moving at all. lucy’s hand comes to the small of maggie’s back, and her voice is low, asking gently, gently “what’s wrong mags?” 

the sound of her nickname brings maggie back to the present, and it’s lucy’s touch to her back that keeps her there. maggie knows her parents haven’t seen her yet, too absorbed in their menus, but god, what is she supposed to do? in the years since getting kicked out maggie had envisioned this moment a hundred, no, a thousand times. each time she’d always had something to say, something to show for herself - how good her life is without them. 

what she hadn’t been expecting was for them to be so okay without her. 

glancing at each other over their menus, her father laughing at something her mother said. it’s left maggie gutted and unable to move - it’s left her staring and wide eyed. lucy must piece together maggie’s silence with her line of sight because then it’s lucy’s hand on maggie’s hip and it’s lucy’s body protecting maggie’s, and it’s the summer air, but maggie is cold, cold, cold. 

she feels frozen. her mind, her breathing, her entire body working on some sort of distant autopilot. all maggie can think about is being fifteen and seeing the look of unmuteable rage cross her fathers face. all she can think about is how many nights she spent hoping, praying, wishing, that one day they’d call her, they’d say ‘ _come home, it’s okay. we love you.’_

but instead, 

no. 

instead not. not at all. 

all maggie can think about now is if her parents have photos of her on the walls, if she’s eternally fourteen. and then all she can think about is a voice she hasn’t heard in fifteen years saying 

“margaret.” 

and maggie thinks she might be ill because that’s her mothers voice. her mothers disapproving voice. maggie grips at lucy and doesn’t think she can speak, doesn’t think she can do anything. 

and luckily, she doesn’t have to. 

beacuse even as her mother is saying “are you not going to say hello to your own parents?” 

[which, maggie will later say through tears, ‘is not who they are’] 

[even though she wishes they were] 

even as the words leave her mothers lips, it’s lucy who steps forward. who places her body between maggie and her mother. it’s lucy who says “no, she’s not.” and it’s lucy saying “she doesn’t owe you anything.” and maggie is just standing there, frozen. 

the woman she knew as her mother, once upon a time, turns her firey gaze to lucy and demands “and who are you to speak to me like that?”

“i’m a woman who loves maggie.” lucy says defiantly “and i’m the person who’s not going to let you say anything else to her, not if all you’re going to do is hurt her.” 

the woman she once knew as her mother looks past lucy, directly at maggie now, eyebrows raised “are you going to let your friend speak to me like this?” 

friend. 

maggie finds it in her to say one thing, and one thing only “she’s not my friend, she’s my girlfriend.” 

sure enough, the woman visibly recoils at the word and that’s all maggie really needs to know. maggie’s shoulders sag and her grip on lucy’s jacket tightens and it’s lucy turning maggie away, pulling out her phone and calling alex on speedial. it must ring only once or twice before alex picks up, maggie can hear alex through the haze of her own mind, alex sounds a little bit breathless “ _hey,”_  she says “ _how’s breakfast?”_  

maggie imagines her in the deo sparring with vasquez, or with kara, or with j’onn. she imagines alex standing, on hand on her hip, the other holding the phone to her ear - maggie imagines because all she needs is alex’s arms around her. all she needs is lucy by her side.

maggie’s brain is finally catching up to what happened, to what’s just happened and it’s a decade of emotions preparing to slam into her all at once. 

“i need you to pick us up.” lucy’s saying, because alex has access to a deo car and with the tone in lucy’s voice, alex will do anything.

“ _where are you?”_ alex asks immediatly, and “ _are you hurt?”_  

“no one’s hurt.” lucy assures her “we’re at the starbucks on fifth and state.” 

“ _ **stay** **there**.” _ alex says at once, and maggie can already hear her moving through the deo “ _ **i’m coming to get you**.” _

and then, 

there alex is. 

in an suv that screams covert government agency, but it doesn’t matter because she pulls a u-turn in the middle of the street and ends up parked facing the wrong way in front of a fire hydrant. alex clambers out of the car and flashes an fbi badge to the ticketing officer who starts to write her a ticket, and then alex is meeting them at the door. 

she’s all business until the moment she sees maggie. maggie who’s keeping it together as best she can, but that was terrible. that was horrible. that was, 

it was ripping the wound open anew. it was _terrible._

but it finally feels over not when she’s guided into the backseat and lucy slides in next to her, 

no, 

it feels over when she’s home. 

when she’s in alex’s apartment - a place that holds no memories of crying over another returned birthday card - and being pulled into a tight, tight hug by alex, by lucy. 

she cries. she cries hard. 

because it’s not fair. 

it’s not fair and later she’ll be angry at the audacity of the woman she used to know as her mother, to think that she can demand something, anything at all, from maggie. but mostly, for the moment, maggie thinks about lucy, her lucy physically putting her body in the way. about lucy saying with the calmest, coolest sense of truth ‘ _i’m a woman who loves maggie.’_

loves. 

loves. 

_loves._

“hey luce,” maggie whispers, her voice rough from tears and her cheeks splotchy “i love you.” 

lucy presses a kiss to maggie’s temple and alex just beams Welty between them, hands on both their backs and her own tears shining in her eyes. 

“i love you too.” lucy replies, and it soothes the pain, because these woman? 

they look at maggie scars and her shadows and they love her anyway, they love her because of where she came from - and how far she’s gone. and that, that doesn’t need her parents approval. not any more.


	30. director danvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> director danvers + “you've broken my heart too many times, i just need anything director danvers where lucy is happy”

the question had been “we’ve got the weekend off, run away with me?” 

and lucy had, of course, said yes. 

so here they are, both on their bikes, both chasing open highway and a distant horizon. there was no deo to worry about, there was no washington, no aliens hellbent on destroying earth or the universe. it was just lucy and just alex and their bikes. 

it was also going to lucy and alex in a cute little b&b in the valley, with a day of hiking and maybe some skinny dipping in hidden lakes and definitely making out under a waterfall. but right now, right now, for lucy, the sun is out and the sky is blue. the road before them is empty and the breeze is cool against the sliver of her neck thats exposed between helmet and jacket. and she’s just - 

overwhelmed. 

overwhelmed because a year ago she was working on her dad’s attaché and dating james and her life was good. but this? dating alex danvers? this is great. 

so great that sometimes lucy is overwhelmed with the force of the realization and finds herself indicating and pulling over because sometimes lucy just needs a minute to breathe and smile and feel the sun on her face. alex, of course, pulls over just behind her. lucy watches as alex yanks on the zip of her jacket, just to cool off and lucy watches alex pulling her helmet off and asking gently, gently “everything okay?” 

and lucy, unable really to find the words to describe the utter peace and contentment she’s found herself smothered with in this moment, just reaches for alex’s slightly undone jacket and pulls her forward, kissing her. 

kissing her hard and soft all at once. 

pulling back and smiling because alex’s pupils are a little bit blown and her she’s smiling “what was that for?” she asks, biting her lower lip. 

“for being you.” lucy replies “and for loving me.” 

“damn right i do.” alex replies, pulling lucy into another, slightly longer kiss. 

it’s perfect, lucy decides, it really is. 


	31. kara & maggie - nb!alex danvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara and Maggie bonding over food. Like, maybe Kara describes how she experiences food to Maggie since she's so much more sensitive to the smell, texture, sound (ex. the crunch of a good crust or the barely audible sizzling of freshly cooked meat), and taste. Plus Maggie as kind of a food snob in that she doesn't eat just anything. We know she eats vegan and probably organic (up to you if it's due to dietary restrictions or a personal choice).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y’all this was so cute. i had so much fun with this. thank you for such a wonderful prompt! <3

kara is laid out on maggie’s couch, there’s an episode of bob’s burgers playing but neither of them are really paying attention to it. maggie’s excuse is that she’s cooking. kara’s is that for once, the biggest thing in her life isn’t alien’s threatening to take over, or humans threatening to kill each other. it’s not being bi and also maybe ace.

it’s work.

it’s having a laugh with maggie over shitty bosses and the then it’s maggie, deftly flipping two homemade black bean burgers, asking “so, little danvers,” she starts

“yes, you have my permission to marry alex.” kara says, at once.

maggie, promptly chokes “i- not exactly what i was going to bring up but, thanks.”

kara sits up, smiling “please, like i don’t know you’ve got a ring hidden in your sock drawer.”

“do i want to know how you know that?”

kara seems to be weighing the options, then sits all the way up, crossing her legs and looking at maggie “last week, when alex was saying that their ribs totally weren’t broken, i x-rayed them just to make sure they weren’t lying. so when i x-rayed alex, i kind of x-rayed the whole place. by mistake. sorry. i didn’t mean to.”

“it’s okay,” maggie says, soothing, slicing tomato with easy strokes “i just hope you didn’t see a couple drawers down.”

kara pulls a face “i did.” she groans, reaching for a pillow, flushing “it was terrible.”

maggie smirks “i’m sure it was. but you can’t tell alex, about the ring.”

kara, still fiddling with the pillow, beams “they won’t hear it from me.” she says “and when you want to talk about how you plan to propose to them, i’m here.”

“thanks,” maggie says, and kara continues.

“i know people say i’m terrible at keeping secrets, but that’s totally not true. the only people who know that kara danvers is an alien are the people who know i’m also supergirl. so you can totally trust me.”

it feels like that’s something kara’s been wanting to say for a while, so maggie files it away for later, and instead, takes the knife to the sink to rinse it and says “i trust you kara, don’t worry.”

“oh.” kara says, her face flickering with barely masked surprise “cool. so, you wanted to ask me something. before i, you know.”

“yeah, it’s,” maggie starts, then shakes her head “never mind, it’s weird.”

“please,” kara says, standing and letting the pillow fall back to the couch “weird is asking me if i sleep with socks on. did you know lena sleeps with socks on? there’s a whole sock graveyard at the bottom of my bed now. that’s weird.”

“so me wanting to ask you about food isn’t weird?” maggie asks, busying herself with making sure the buns are toasting just right.

kara scoffs “maggie please,” she says, jumping up onto the kitchen counter nearest the front door - a space free of spice or organic produce that maggie wakes up at six thirty on a saturday to obtain “it’s like you don’t even know me.”

“i just, look, promise not to laugh at me.” maggie says, using the hand currently holding a knife to point at kara.

kara eyes the knife and then nods solemnly “i won’t laugh at you.”

“okay, good.” maggie says, and then she’s taking a few preparatory breaths before asking “how do you, you know, experience food? besides eating it in obscene quantities.”

kara considers “like with my super powers?”

maggie nods, and before she has a chance to backtrack, kara starts answering “so right now for example,” she says “i can see, smell and hear all the things that you do, the oil in the pan, the smell of the buns toasting - they’re done by the way, another ten seconds and they’re on fire.”

kara pauses while maggie pulls the buns out of the toaster and sets them on the plates “but then like, there’s another layer of everything underneath what humans hear. like when you open your root beer i  can hear the bubbles as they pop on the surface. i can hear the weird bean juice when it comes in contact with the pan. the way the bun compresses when you put the burger onto it. so everything is just more, more.” kara says

maggie, multitasking in listening and plating their burgers, looks over and asks “so pizza and potstickers, are they, extra, extra special somehow?”

“pizza sounds the best.” kara says after a beat “i’ve never told anyone that before. i mean, no one’s ever asked. but like, sauce and cheese and pepperoni and whatever other toppings you humans like, they all, sound different in the oven. and the crunch of a perfect crust. it’s music. really weird, edible music.”

“and potstickers?”

“they’re just the best taste on the planet. except, maybe -” she trails off, flushing slightly at the collar and maggie laughs

“woah little danvers, there are something i do not need to know.”

“i didn’t say anything!” kara protests, accepting the plate from maggie and then walking to join her on the couch.

“mhmm.” maggie says “you weren’t going to say anything about lena luthor.”

“no.” kara says, but it’s muffled and she’s beet red and maggie enjoys being able to tease her like this “but anyway,” she says, after a mouthful of her first burger “we should go eat some time. you know, out somewhere. somewhere cool and i can tell you all the things that i experience when i eat. i know there’s the vegan place in the theater district you’ve been wanting to try. alex, they don’t go near it, But you know, unless you think it’s weird.”

“no,” maggie says, smiling hard “you’re paying though.”

“duh.” kara says, settling back into the couch “you can’t afford to take me out to eat.”

“that’s why you’re dating lena, huh?”

“i-” kara starts and then catches on to maggie’s smile “shut up.”

“language.” maggie tuts.

“coming from you.” kara replies, tossing a pillow at maggie who fends it off easily with a bat of her hand.

“let me finish this and then you’re going down.” maggie threatens.

“please,” kara says “i can just hold them above my head.”

“i,” maggie says “happen to know where you’re ticklish.”

kara gasps, horrified “they didn’t…”

“they did.” maggie smirks

“alex is such a traitor.” kara says “how could they?”

“because they love me.”

“can’t deny that.” kara says, content for the moment to subtly collect as many pillows as she can around her and watch maggie just beam and beam and beam.


	32. sanvers - nb!alex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you said top 5/10 anything, so... top 5 nb!alex headcanons?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a perfect place to also mention that any of my posts that mention or involve nb!alex danvers will be tagged under nb!alex. i’m in the process of going through all my posted prompts and checking they’re all tagged appropriately. enjoy! 
> 
> tw: misuse of pronouns

**one:**

the night they come out to maggie, alex gets off early from the deo and spends the entire afternoon doing two things: wanting a drink, and sitting pressed against the bathroom cabinet because they feel like if they stand they’re going to be ill.

 

by the time maggie gets home alex barely has time to scramble to their feet and  walk out of the bathroom. it doesn’t matter that alex throws on a smile, and tries to pull maggie into a kiss, anything to distract from the way their hands are almost but not quite shaking. it doesn’t matter because maggie knows them, and maggie reads the fear in alex’s eyes and maggie kisses alex, gently, gently before stepping back. 

before taking their shaking hands in their own and asking “what going on?” 

because alex may not have realized it, but j’onn noticed how they practically fled the deo that afternoon. and alex may not have realized it but there are two missed texts from maggie on their phone. and it’s not like alex to ignore messages, not from maggie.

so alex may not realize it, but maggie knows somethings different, something’s up.

maggie reads it in the way alex froze at her question, the way alex’s body tenses like a rabbits, ready for flight. so maggie, maggie moves slowly, she curls her hands around alex’s wrists but keeps her fingers loose, relaxed, grounding but not trapping “you can tell me anything.” she says, seeking eye contact from alex, but not getting it. 

not getting it because alex is scared. they’re scared that anything doesn’t include being not quite a girl and not quite a boy. they’re scared that maggie, so confident in liking women, won’t want to be with them any more. them who isn’t quite either. 

alex is scared. and alex doesn’t want to lose maggie, so maybe they can pretend. maybe they can push this down. maybe they can be ‘her’ and maybe they can be ‘alexandra’ and maybe, maybe, maybe if it means getting to keep maggie, 

maybe they can be ‘she.’ 

for maggie, all the while alex is talking themself out of the words that are threatening to spill over, all the while maggie is reading the pure fear on alex’s face. maggie feels the tension and the panic radiating from their body. and it makes maggie ache. it makes her ache because no one, no one and especially not alex, deserves to be this afraid, this scared. 

so maggie takes a different route. she takes a breath and she thinks of the laptop that alex left open one sunday afternoon. with tabs about sexuality and gender. and places that do gender neutral haircuts in national city. maggie says slowly, as softly as she can “you know i love you, alex.” she starts “you know i’m in love with who _you_ are. and nothing can change that, not what pronouns you want to use.” and alex’s eyes widen, their breathing stops, but maggie keeps going 

“and if you want different pronouns, i’ll use different pronouns.” maggie says, asking slowly “is that something you might want?” 

but instead of an answer, alex chokes out “how?” 

_how do you know?_

_how are you okay with it?_

_how do you still love me?_

it doesn’t matter the question, maggie has the answers to all of them. but that’s for later. 

the now is for pulling alex into her arms and kissing their temple and smoothing their hair, and the now is for alex to cling to maggie like maggie could change her mind in a moment. the now is for alex to say, hiccuping and trembling “there’s a thing, it’s - i’m not a man, but, i don’t always feel like a woman? it’s - i think i’m non-binary. i just,” and that’s almost all alex can get out, “can we not use her?”

and the now is for maggie to say “of course,” and “what do you want instead?” 

and it’s they. it’s them. 

and alex cries and maggie soothes and pulls them to bed. maggie lets alex cry and lets them grip at her, and maggie promises she’s not going anywhere. not now. not ever. 

 **two:** it’s date night, they’re with maggie at the baseball game. not a sport alex is wholly into, but they are into sitting in the bleachers and drinking shitty beer with their arm around maggie’s shoulders eating peanuts and watching maggie watch the game. alex is totally into maggie, and maggie’s into baseball, ergo, alex is, kind of, into baseball. 

and the game is great, but kissing maggie against the stadium wall for a moment is better. right up until 

“alex danvers have to say this is a surprise.” 

and it may be alex who connects the voice to maxwell lord, but it’s maggie who reacts first. it’s maggie who reacts first because it’s alex who stiffens against maggie and suddenly they can’t speak. they can’t speak because maxwell lord likes to flirt and maxwell lord thinks he has game, and he, he reminds them of the femininity that they’re not comfortable with anymore. not entirely. 

“do i know you?” maggie asks, talking a half step between alex and maxwell lord, arms folded across her chest. 

“no,” lord replies “but maybe you’d like to.” 

“somehow i doubt that.” maggie replies, but lord is looking past her, to alex. 

“so you’re a lesbian.” he’s saying, and he’s a little drunk, but ever the ass “you like women. and you’re a woman.” 

maggie feels alex flinch. 

lords’ gaze slides back to maggie “you know we practically dated, your girlfriend and i, did she tell you that?”

another flinch. 

“she’s very good with her hands.” lord says, but before he can even finish wherever that statement was going, 

maggie punches him.

“mags.” alex squeaks “you-” 

maxwell lord is stumbling back, nose pouring with blood and maggie is stepping forward “come near them again,” she’s saying “come near alex again, and it’ll be worse than just a black eye.” she says. 

“did you threaten me?” lord asks, spluttering and spitting blood. 

“damn right i did.” maggie says, wrapping an arm around alex’s waist and guiding them away. 

waiting until they’re home before asking “are you okay?” and they answer by kissing maggie, hands cupping maggie’s jaw. 

“i’m perfect.” alex says “you’re - i love you.” 

 **three** : maggie and alex have a conversation about names. it’s a few weeks after the initial conversation in the kitchen, in bed. it’s something maggie brings up because she wants to know, and the best way to make sure she doesn’t hurt alex, is by asking them what’s okay. 

so they’re sittng, maggie with the sports section, alex with the sunday comics and they both have a mug of coffee on hand, and it’s perfect. it’s calm and maggie almost hates to break it, but she needs to, so she stands, so she kisses the top of alex’s head and scratches lightly at the freshly fade they’re trying out and asks “more coffee?” 

alex hums and nods and pushes her mug towards maggie’s hand “please babe.” they say so maggie is at the french press when she asks 

“hey alex,” 

“hmm?”

“are you okay if i call you babe?” 

there’s the careful folding of a newspaper and maggie looks up to see alex considering and then saying “yes?” but it comes out unsure and it comes out a question. 

“is there something you’d rather i call you instead?” 

alex swallows, playing with the edge of the newspaper “i-” they start “i don’t think so?” 

maggie brings the mugs back, setting them down and reaching for alex’s hand “i just don’t ever want to make you feel uncomfortable.” she says “that’s why i ask.” 

“i think,” alex says, taking a deep breath “babe is okay. just not, babygirl? i’m-” they start to apologize, but maggie squeezes their hand. 

“you don’t have to apologize for what you want to be called, okay?” 

alex nods. 

“and if any of that changes,” maggie says “you can always tell me.” 

alex nods again, squeezing maggie’s hand and reaching for their mug with the other “i know.” they say, after a sip “i know.” 

 **four:** kara is the first one to call alex handsome. they’re going to some catco event thing and kara is bringing alex because maggie is out of town and they’re moping. plus james is away on, and she quotes 

“dude stuff with clark” 

which as far as she’s concnered probably means clark is posing for more pulitzer photos or something. it also means that she’s dateless to the gala so alex gets to come. and it means that alex gets to wear a suit, and they’re in the bathroom trying to figure out how much make up they want to put on when kara walks in, sees them, squeals and says 

“alex you look, like ridiculously handsome, get out here i’m taking a photo of us for maggie.” 

alex is so caught on _handsome that they_  seems a little distracted in the photo, and for a full five minteus after that. to the point where kara has to come into the bathroom and ask nervously “was handsome not okay? i figured, because gorgeous makes you uncomfortable that beautiful would too, and just, you look really good and I wanted a word to say that that wasn’t just, ‘good’ becasue good is lame.” 

“handsome is,” alex starts, smiling “it’s perfect. i wasn’t sure how i would feel about it, but it fits.” 

“good.” kara smiles, standing and kissing them lightly on the cheek “but you’re going to be handsome and late if you don’t get a move on.” 

**five:**

**“** you’ve got very lovely daughters eliza.” a neighbor says at a summer barbecue. 

“i’ve got two very lovely children.” eliza agrees. 

and alex is by the grill, but she’s close enough to hear and close enoguh to pretend that it’s just the smoke in her eyes that’s making them water. but it’s her mother saying “you know alex, they’re doing great work for the fbi these days. i’m so proud of them.” 

because it’s them. 

it’s who they are. 

and they’re loved. 


	33. danvers sisters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara and Alex go to the aquarium. There's this part of the building where one can walk under where they keep some of the more brightly colored fish or maybe fluorescent jellyfish and it's just a little awe-inspiring. Kara loves it. They have a special membership bc they're donators and they like going on quiet days where there aren't any crowds and they can just relax and quietly look at the fish. When they get tired of walking they sit in the auditorium and share popcorn while watching the film

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m a sucker for a good danvers sisters prompt. take a k and a half of mild angst, with a heavy side of comfort. enjoy!
> 
> check out this sick art by [tomas-abe](https://tomas-abe.tumblr.com/post/160535949078/warm-up-26-quiet-peace-based-on-one-of)

it starts with kara missing out on brunch. a last minute text sent so strategically that it’s only received after alex and maggie are sitting with  james and winn, browsing the menu. and the text is casual, it’s worded so as to not alarm anyone. but this is kara, and this is brunch and if there’s one thing kara loves, it’s food. especially brunch food.

so alex shows the text to maggie and maggie squeezes alex’s thigh and kisses her cheek and says “go, danvers.”

and alex’s heart soars because how did she find someone so perfect? not to mention how lucky she is for having friends that welcomed maggie practically at once into their superfamily. it makes the walk over to kara’s apartment light and with the freedom from worrying about her girlfriend with their friends, alex can focus on kara.

she suspects she knows what’s going on. national city in the summer is a crowded, loud, overwhelming place even for alex. but for kara, with all of her superhearing and other super senses, it can be nearly unbearable. so entering kara’s apartment is a quiet affair. closing the door with muted movements, slipping her shoes off so it’s just alex in her socks padding across the hardwood of kara’s apartment.

alex finds kara in her bedroom, buried under a pile of blankets. the curtains are pulled across the window, there’s a dent in the wall and what once was kara’s phone is shattered on the floor. there’s the shambles of an alarm clock as well, cracked and broken.

alex wonders how long kara’s been hiding the signs, and curses herself for not putting the pieces together sooner.

“alex,” kara croaks, from under the mountain of covers and pillows “’m sorry.”

“no,” alex says, her voice no louder than a whisper “you don’t have to apologize.”

“i broke my phone, again.” kara mumbles as alex peels back the layers of duvets and pillows.

“we can buy you a new one.” alex promises “what do you need?” she asks, because sometimes kara just needs alex, but can’t handle too much touch.

sometimes she just needs alex close, with her steady heart and gentle, quiet words.

but sometimes, like today,

sometimes kara is reaching for alex and alex is allowing herself to be pulled into the cave kara’s built for herself. wherein, it’s dark and quiet and muted. alex allows kara to do whatever she needs - sometimes it’s just lay with their hands tangled in the dark. today it’s kara pressing her head against alex’s chest and alex knows kara is pressing her eyes shut and she can feel the rigid tension in kara’s posture because everything is too loud, too much.

“i’m going to touch you.” alex whispers and kara nods, once.

so alex wraps her arms around kara, lets her hands smooth down the plane of kara’s back, stopping when she feels kara tense and shake her head “not there.” kara says, not her low back, where the hem of her shirt has risen and maybe that skin on skin would be too loud.

alex adjusts, alex keeps her hands splayed across kara’s shoulder blades and lays, still and silent. she focuses on her breathing, on her heartbeat and on kara. letting the time slip past them without any concern, here they’re safe. here, alex has kara. and of the people kara trusts in the world, first and foremost it is alex. it is her big sister. who will always, always protect her.

eventually, finally, what is hours later and alex had used a hand to craft an air vent from twisted sheets and covers, kara stirs. she let’s out a long breath, but makes no move to extricate herself from alex’s arms, just mumbles

“it’s the music fest.” she says “there’s like, twelve bands playing at once and so, so many people.”

of course.

“i thought it would be okay, i would be okay.” kara swallows “with the headphones, but -” her voice cracks “i did all the math, how loud it was likely to be for me given how far we are from the festival grounds. but the wind is blowing this way, and i had factored that it would be coming off the water, not towards it.” she sighs, hands still clutching at alex “i thought i prepared.”

“you did everything you could.” alex says gently, “you can’t control the wind.”

“would be nice if i could.” kara grumbles and alex laughs low in her chest “you didn’t eat brunch.” she says

“you’re more important.” alex reminds her “you’re always more important.”

“you’re sweaty.” kara points out,

and yes, yes alex is because kara runs an average of three degrees warmer than the average person. which means that kara plus mountain of blankets, plus limited air circulation adds up to alex being sweaty.

happily sweaty because this is kara and kara feels calmer now, and kara’s stomach is rumbling and alex is laughing lightly “can we order from that vegan place?” kara asks.

“you want vegan?”

“it tastes light.” kara replies “it’s not, heavy. it’s quiet.”

alex kisses kara’s forehead in the half dark “yeah, we can have the vegan place. the one by lena’s office right?”

“yeah,” kara sighs, curling in on herself as alex slips out of bed to find her phone.

alex sits down on the edge of the bed “how about we go to the aquarium tomorrow?” she asks

kara’s eyes light up “really?”

alex nods, “i’ll tell j'onn we’re not coming in and we’ll go right for when it opens.”

“you have such good ideas.” kara sighs, headphones still adorned, eyes still shut, retreating back into her cave because the night is young and the music and the people and the heartbeat of the city will only get louder.

and it peaks, for kara, with fireworks.

they’re back in bed and kara is shaking because it’s too loud and it’s too much and despite losing herself in alex’s heartbeat, the fireworks were unexpected and god they seem close, they feel close.

alex jumps when they first burst and crack and light up a sky she can’t see. her arms curl around kara, and alex feels kara tense and her whole body winces and kara cries out because

shouldn’t these things come with a warning?

they last for fourteen minutes and ten seconds.

which is fourteen minutes and ten seconds too long because alex hates fireworks as much as kara, but with her little sister to focus on, alex’s own nightmares are held at bay. when relative silence descends, kara is shaking still and pressing herself into alex, with her hands covering her headphone covered ears.

it’s bad.

and alex knows the morning will come, and kara will be exhausted and a shadow and she will stick to alex’s side. and alex? alex will forgo her morning coffee because the machine is too loud. alex will eat yoghurt because that’s quiet and she will coax kara to have at least bread and smooth peanut butter.

and it will be a quiet morning where alex dresses in her softest clothes and she eases the supergirl suit from kara’s hands saying “not today, the city will survive one day.”

and it will.

today is for kara.

today is where alex will guide her through a world that is too loud and to hard and alex knows the aquarium is a good idea. she knows it’s a good idea because it’s a very special, donors day. and alex has given a lot of money to the first place that really calmed kara down on days like these.

so they arrive and kara’s deep in a hoodie, with her headphones on and her hand tangled in alex’s. alex does all the talking, not that there’s much as she hands over two membership cards. there’s no question as to where they’re going, alex guides kara down, down, into the quiet depths of the building.

where it’s nearly pitch black save for a wall dozens of meters high, a wall of glass and behind it, jellyfish. backlit with gentle colours, alex find their seat, pulls kara into her side and takes kara’s glasses when they’re handed to her.

here, in the dark, with nothing but the jellyfish moving slowly, ghostly, they are calm. kara watches the jellyfish move, entranced by way a current takes them, ebbing and flowing around the darkness. her hand stays firmly in alex’s, tightening only once when a family comes bounding down the stairs. but even then, kara just turns and lets her forehead rest on alex’s shoulder, all her super senses focused on her sister. instead of the quickly bored toddlers who want to go back to the sharks.

and when the leave, its quiet again and alex can feel the tension seeping from kara’s body.

“do you want to watch the movie?” alex asks, the glow from her watching telling her there’s a showing in five minutes they can make.

sometimes kara likes the imax theater and they get popcorn and get the best seats and lose themselves that way.

but not today.

today kara shakes her head, says, asks “can we stay here?”

“of course.” alex replies, kissing kara’s forehead and squeezing her hand “as long as you want.”

kara just nods, turning her gaze back to the hundreds of jellyfish, losing herself in the steady rhythm of her sister’s presence.


	34. director sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> director sanvers + “Yo. still want prompts? Most Director Sanvers out there everything is alex/maggie or alex/lucy (probably because lucy/mags haven't canonically interacted but.) Even when it's lucy/maggie they still bond over alex. I get it, Alex Danvers is the center of my universe too but the ship feels unbalanced bc people write them as a triad? So. More Maggie/Lucy time. As for the actual prompt? You like angst. Maybe they bond over their dads being the actual worst. Or they fight abt The West Wing. You pick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look, when i sat down to write this i had plans for angst. things were supposed to happen and i had it all set up for lucy lane to step in and probably punch someone. but then….that didn’t happen???? i don’t know where that story went, but the following is 2.3k of lucy lane and maggie sawyer being soft and gentle and in love. also, the last chunk is nsfw. enjoy.

the original idea for date night was baseball game under the lights, and then depending on sobriety, dinner. except you were supposed to pick lucy up half an hour ago and all you’d managed to send her was the shortest text on the plane that was at least fifty percent apology. and you’re focusing on the crime scene whilst also being consumed with worry because it’s date night, and lucy’s in town and there’s no departures looming on the horizon and all you want is to be in the bleachers with your arm around lucy as she heckles, loudly and kisses you, softly.

except you’re looking a double murder and there’s too much blood for the missing third member of the family to really be alive, so really your night is only looking at getting longer. which is, fine. if fine means ‘all you wanted was one night with your girlfriend and instead you’re stuck sidestepping around blood pooled across the linoleum flooring.’

then yeah, you’re fine.

you’re ‘fine’ all the way until your phone rings and it’s a photo of lucy on the screen and fuck it, you need to hear her voice. you need to apologize, so you step outside, away from the chaos and pick up with

“i’m so sorry babe. i know you were looking forward to this game, but i can’t get away. i just can’t. it’s a double homicide and -”

and you’re cut off by lucy. you can hear soft fondness and a smile in her voice

/“maggie,”/ she’s saying, and there’s no anger, no irritation /“maggie it’s okay.”/ which doesn’t seem possible, but you have to believe her /“there will be more baseball games. when you get home, you get home and then you’re all mine, okay? i’ll cook some dinner and we can finish watching the first season of nikita. or we can just cuddle. okay?”/

which, you can’t argue with because lucy sounds so sure and so calm and so content to just be with you. it’s refreshing, to not be berated for having to do your job and some of the tension is dropping from your shoulders as lucy says /“be safe out there, okay? and text me if you want me to come pick you up.”/

“will do.” you reply, heart swelling, “hey lucy,” you add, seeing the look from your partner that means something’s developed.

/“mmm?”/ lucy hums.

“i love you.”

this time there’s no mistaking the smile in lucy’s voice, and you can picture her curled up on the couch in her terrible metropolis baseball jersey, just smiling, because it’s true,

you do love her.

and it’s not the first time you’ve said it, not by a long shot. but sometimes you just need to make sure lucy knows.

/“i love you too babe.”/ lucy replies /“now get back to work before your partner starts giving you the eyes.”/

“too late.” you reply with a smile, hanging up and slipping your phone back into your pocket.

work is, well, not better after that. but it’s easier to focus on process and procedure with the knowledge that lucy isn’t angry at you for missing date night. which is a good thing because the case takes a turn for the wild when your prime suspects jumps through a window and starts a chase that makes you very,

very,

glad that alex drags you out of bed for her morning runs.

because when your partner comes across the radio panting /“i lost him. i lost the fucking bastard.”/

you’ve still got visual eye contact, and what’s more, you’re gaining. so your night culminates in tackling your suspect into a brick wall. which isn’t great for either of you. there’s no serious injury, nothing besides your burning legs, but you’re just not going to tell alex about that bit. instead, two officers show up to cuff the guy and it’s only after that you finally notice the sizable scrape down your right forearm. it’s sticky and dark with blood and grit, and the first chance you have to really deal with it is when you’re home.

finally.

hours after the take down.

it’s one am by the time you open the apartment door and you’re trying to be as quiet as you can. turns out there’s no need because there’s soft lamplight illuminating the couch, and upon it,

lucy.

she’s in an old t-shirt of yours and some army shorts, looking tired but relaxed and the smile she sends your way makes your entire body relax.

“hey,” you say, voice quiet and thick with exhaustion “’m sorry i’m so late.”

lucy is standing, walking over to take your helmet and help you slip out of your leather jacket “you’re hurt.” she comments, noticing how you’re keeping your left arm close to your body.

“just a scrape.” you say, but it’s no sue because alex may have the medical degree, but lucy is just as bad.

or, just as good, you think because lucy’s got a hand on your elbow and is guiding you to the bathroom “i spoke to alex,” she’s saying “her recruits are having a little more difficulty than she anticipated with their team bonding exercises.”

“oh no.” you laugh, letting yourself be positioned - the ongoing issues with the deo’s latest batch of recruits a hot topic of conversation in the lane-sawyer-danvers household “i keep telling her just lock them in a room until they sort their shit out.”

“she and vasquez are getting supergirl and guardian to help them with a 'midnight attack’ secnario.”

you see it now, recruits asleep in some terrible cabin in the wilderness, not expecting anything until the sun comes up. but alas, a door with probably get kicked down and mayhem will ensue.

“and i assume kara and james were all to happy to help out.” you supply, watching as lucy kneels down and pulls out a first aid kit.

“of course they are.” lucy replies, the industrial size kit taking up most of the available counter space as she unclips the lid “how was work?” she asks, flipping on the variety lights to inspect the wound more clearly.

“shit.” you sigh “two dead. perp decided to hide in the apartment next door and then make a break for it with half the force standing between him and freedom. somehow he got out the building and i had to chase him for eight blocks. this,” you gesture with your arm “happened as I tackled him.”

“this is going to hurt.” lucy says, turning the tap on and letting the water warm “you should have looked at this sooner.” she scolds lightly.

“didn’t have time.” you try, which is the same excuse that both lucy and alex give and you roll your eyes every single time and say

“you are more important than your work.” lucy mimics.

“you’re the worst.” you say and then you’re hissing because that water may be warm but fuck if it still doesn’t hurt.

the only redeeming aspect of the situation is lucy’s sheer physical proximity and her light touches getting rid of gravel and blood until it’s only your skinned arm that remains. blood is pooling again and lucy is gentle, gentle as she cleans it again with hydrogen peroxide, covers it all in bacitracin and then wraps your entire forearm in gauze.

and it’s, well it’s beyond nice just to be taken care of. to have lucy kiss your shoulder and ask “you hungry?” and really, you’re not, you just want a shower and to collapse into bed with your girlfriend.

so lucy helps wrap your arm in cling film so the gauze doesn’t get soaked while you take the quickest shower on the planet. it’s just enough to get the smell of death and the feel of the crime scene away from you. and when you step out you see lucy’s grabbed your pajamas and set them on the toilet.

you also smell food and when you come out of the bathroom, there’s a small bowl of pasta complete with a fork waiting for you. and lucy sitting next to it, some deo documents in her lap “you need something.” she says as you collapse onto the couch, and lucy wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“eat.” she prompts “you need it.”

“i need you.” you reply.

“you’ve got me.” lucy says, closing the folder of whatever she was working on and putting it on the coffee table “i promise maggie, you’ve got me.”

you nod, sighing heavily and reaching for the food, only realizing how hungry you are after you demolish the bowl in three minutes flat. before lucy can stand up to heat up some more, you’re kissing her neck and half asking “can we go to bed?”

and it’s hitting you now, how exhausted you are. and how warm lucy is and how all you want is to crawl into bed and pull her into your arms.

and it’s lucy saying “of course.”

and it’s lucy pulling you in for a kiss when you stand. it’s like lucy knows what when you close your eyes you’re still seeing all of the blood, all of the death of your day. and it’s like lucy’s doing everything in her power to distract you from that.

her hands tangling with yours, you pulling her flush against you.

tired and yet suddenly not at all.

“mags,” lucy breaths against your lips and you freeze, pulling back until lucy’s hands squeeze yours “are you sure?” she’s asking “we don’t have to do anything.” she reminds you.

“i know.” you nod “i know. i want to.” you say “i want you.”

“then you have me.” lucy says, walking backwards and leading you to bed, her gaze never leaving yours.

it’s electric in the dark, kissing lucy up against a door. the roughness the three of you frequently bring into this space is wholly absent tonight. it’s not about taking or being taken, it’s about kissing lucy’s neck and letting your hands sliding up and under her shirt, feeling the definition that comes with years of hard work.

tonight, for you, is asking quietly, breathing the question into the dark “can i?” before pulling off lucy’s shirt, and dropping it to the floor.

it’s you kissing your way down her neck, her chest, nipping at her hips and dropping to your knees right there with lucy against the door. which, to lucy’s credit, she handles well, with wide, dark eyes and a hand in your hair, guiding lightly. letting you take your time as she nods her permission for you to take her shorts off.

and tonight,

tonight is not about teasing.

it’s about tasting lucy and feeling her entire bod arch into your tongue. it’s lucy moaning your name into the dark, and as you push one finger in, and then two,

it’s listening as her breathing shortens to clips and bursts. it’s lucy going “another, another, fuck, maggie please.”

and who are you to deny your girl?

so it’s with three fingers and your tongue that lucy comes for the first time that night. her hand tight in your hair, her voice loud and unwavering in the dark, your name the syllables which echo off the walls. and you, on your knees, looking up at her, until the moment lucy is pulling you to your feet. until she’s kissing herself off your lips, with your hands on her hips.

you need lucy tonight, and you want to remember the squeak of surprise as you lift her up and carry her to the bed. you know you’ll remember setting her down gently, gently, and with one hand bracing yourself over her on the bed, just looking down.

lucy reaches up with one hand and tucks some of the hair back behind your ear, then lets her hand slide to the back of your neck, pulling you down for a kiss. her tongue swiping against your lower lip, you parting your lips, and letting lucy have this moment. giving it to her willingly because you’re not done with her yet.

it’s another orgasm for lucy later by the time you think about the heat building between your own legs. but right now lucy is blissed out, on her back, head resting on your hand resting on pillows. you kissing her jaw, gently, lightly, bringing lucy down from the high of the moment.

and lucy, moaning as you pull your fingers out. you moaning as lucy’s hand finds yours and takes her fingers one at a time into your mouth.

her eyes never leaving yours.

because goddamn.

and then it’s lucy lanes hands on your hips and she’s urging you up, up, up.

and fuck.

she’s good with her fingers,

but lucy’s tongue?

makes you see stars every single time.

hands gripping the headboard, looking down and watching as lucy shamelessly enjoys your riding her face, her tongue doing impossible, impossible things that make your hips twitch and your body shiver of it’s own accord.

you’re lost in incoherent thought before you even orgasm.

and when you do finally come, it’s with lucy’s name on your tongue and a hand in her hair,

and fuck.

fuck.

/fuck./

you roll off of her, sprawl out on the bed and just lay there, breathing hard and feeling lucy curl into you, a hand tracing patterns across your stomach.

“you good?” she asks into the dark, and you don’t quiet have words yet, so you just roll, throwing an arm across lucy’s hip and kiss the back of her neck.

you feel her press into the warmth of your body as she grabs for the comforter and pulls it up and over you both. you feel her hand find yours and you kiss her neck again, eternally grateful for having lucy lane in your life.


	35. director sanvers - nb!alex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> director sanvers feat nb!alex danvers + “you are valid”

it’s been a long day of

/yes ma’am/

and

/right away ma’am/

and

/can you show us how you flipped supergirl again, ma’am/

alex gets home and they’re wrecked. training deo recruits is something they, as a rule, enjoy doing.  they like having a hand in shaping the future of the organization, as well as being able to keep an eye out for anyone particularly promising. it’s just the /ma’am/ and the /she/ and the /her/ that makes alex feel a little bit ill. that makes them fight back a cringe every time some unsuspecting recruit talks.

so alex gets home and before they’re even inside the apartment, music is filtering from under the door, lucy’s laugh and the smells of maggie cooking fill the hallway, and alex aches. they ache because once upon a time this was a dream they never dared to have, a dream they didn’t even know they had.

until it happened.

until they’re opening their front door and catch sight of maggie with her back pressed against the counter and lucy pressed flush against her, kissing and kissing and kiss. they part as the movement in the doorway catches their attention and it’s almost in sync when they break into smiles. both broad, both so genuinely happy that they’re home.

“hey,” maggie says, that soft, only for lucy and alex smile, tugging at the corners of her lips “how was your day?”

and alex wants more than anything to say that their day was fine. because by all accounts it was. no alien trouble, no meta trouble, not even any particularly annoying humans. they spent the day teaching, catching up on paperwork and cleaning their weapons. it was, or should have been,

a good day.

except, somehow,

alex is slipping out of their leather jacket, dropping their keys into the bowl - and they can not say

‘fine.’

instead, alex is letting out a long breath and they’re saying “how was your day?”

which is a pathetic attempt at evading the question, because alex doesn’t want to ruin their night with their own…issues.

“i spent all day canvassing,” maggie says, and alex knows she’s sharing a glance with lucy “witnesses gave us nothing, which we expected.” she pauses “you okay, al?”

alex swallows, forces out something that should have sounded like ‘i’m okay’ masquerading as ‘i’m great’

but in reality came out more of a rushed “fine.” with the added fact that they’re headed straight for the shower because they feel,

gross.

they want to be clean and they want to get into their binder and they want to stop feeling like they’ve spent all day listening to their mother go

/‘now really alexandra, this non-binary business, isn’t it a bit, well, extreme’/

which, they haven’t heard in a while - but that’s also because the last time they spoke to their mother was at a dinner where in kara had said through shaking words

“i’m ashamed of you” to eliza not once, but twice.

and god, alex is fairly sure they’ll remember that moment for the rest of their lives.

“alex,” comes a soft voice, lucy’s, from where she’s paused halfway between maggie - attending to a pot of something, and alex frozen in the bathroom doorway “talk to us.”

“i’m fine.” alex pushes, stepping in the doorway and reaching the door - but lucy is faster.

lucy puts a hand on the door with not nearly enough force to stop alex closing the door if they really wanted to, but the gesture is clear. it’s

‘don’t shut us out’ without any of the words.

“please.” they say, and it’s far more vulnerable than they ever intended, but there are days when alex feels like they want to shed their skin, or never look in a mirror again. today is one of those days. today with all the pronouns that don’t fit,

they want nothing more than to wash the day away.

“i need a shower.” alex says, praying that lucy, that maggie won’t push for more from them, because if they try anything else the words will fail and it will be tears and alex doesn’t want to ruin the night.

“okay.” lucy concedes softly, and alex closes the door.

they turn on the shower and strip without so much as glancing in the mirror - knowing it will only betray them. instead alex spends a small eternity standing under a spray as hot as they can take it. hot enough that when they step out their shoulders, their back, their ass and thighs are all bright, bright pink.

alex blinks and looks away from the mirror, wrapping themselves in a towel and for half a second realizing they hadn’t grabbed any clothes. and yet, resting their on the corner of the sink, is their binder. is basketball shorts and their favorite, favourite hoodie. they hadn’t even heard the door open, or close, but they’re infinitely grateful for their girlfriends in that moment.

and even more so when the step out, hair dry and the hood pulled up so the world is muffled and soft to their ears - and their lucy is sitting on the kitchen counter. maggie is cooking and they’re talking. something about an article lucy was reading recently, one that maggie saw as well - and their heart swells.

“better?” maggie asks gently, a wooden, sauce covered spoon in one hand and a look of concern on her face.

“a little.” and they hate how much it sounds like a croak.

“want to try?” maggie asks, offering alex the spoon and they nod, walking across to the kitchen and taking the spoon from maggie’s hand.

the sauce is, predictably, delicious but it’s maggie’s hand resting on alex’s hip that catches them “want to talk about it?” maggie asks, and lucy is leaning back on her hands, watching, encouraging silently with gentle looks.

alex swallows, they don’t really want to. but in the same breath, they

need

to talk about it.

it’s a war inside alex’s chest - a statement between ‘don’t ruin dinner’ and ‘these are the people who love you, tell them’

and when they finally break, it’s not with a sob, or a sigh - it’s with a setting down of a spoon and a wrapping of their arms around their waist and trying to take up as little space as they can. it’s shirking away and trying to find a breath to take but failing because it’s stupid - this feeling. it’s stupid, the power that other people have over them.

how little words like ‘she’ and ‘her’ and worst of all ‘ma’am’ have on their entire day. on their entire existence.

but maggie doesn’t let her go. and lucy stays on the counter, lucy can tell how close alex is to running, how close they are to turning around and fleeing. so lucy stays near, but far enough that alex doesn’t feel trapped, watching and waiting for the moment alex feels relaxed enough for two of them to be touching them.

for now it’s maggie with a hand on alex’s hip pushing gently “talk to us.”

and it’s alex shaking their head, saying “it’s nothing.” and “it’s silly.”

“it’s not silly.” lucy counters softly “whatever you’re feeling, it’s not silly. it’s valid and it’s real.”

and that’s what breaks alex.

because they’re not ready to be out in any greater a capacity than friends and family knowing. they’re not ready for the deo to wonder what to call them - although agent alex danvers does just fine. they’re not ready and they want to be ready, but they can’t. so the daily misgendering, it’s their fault really, for not being brave enough.

this comes out, in a rush, without breathing or looking up and alex is pressing their arms tighter around their waist and they’re trying not to breath because

existing shouldn’t be this hard.

and yet.

“alex,” maggie says softly,

and lucy adds, slipping off the countertop “you’re valid.” she says, because lucy has seen alex all day.

she was there when alex arrived and saw, as the day went on, the tension rise in their shoulders, the shadows that deepened behind their eyes. lucy was there when kara stopped by on her way out, saying /it’s been a long day, for alex./

because there are some things alex can only get from kara. and there are something’s they need to get from you, from maggie.

“say it again?” alex asks quietly, still looking down, still only just letting maggie touch the curve of their hip.

“you’re valid.” lucy repeats, without hesitation.

“you’re loved.” maggie says.

/we love you./ goes unspoken.

alex listens. alex lets the words wash over them and feels how they loosen the sticky, choked feeling that coils their chest tight. they let out a sob and a breath all at once, reaching for contact, for anything,

because no one ever warned them how hard it would be to love themselves like this. to love the truth of themselves and to trust that one day, they’ll be ready -and the fact that today is not that day, doesn’t make them any, any less worthy of love.

it’s a quiet storm that rips through alex, their emotions caught behind a flood wall that finally, finally burst.

“you’re valid.” maggie whispers into their hair when alex finally allows themselves to be pulled into stable, strong arms.

and alex cries harder,

harder again when lucy says it.

because they know it’s true. sometimes they just need reminding.


	36. director danvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can’t believe you’re it. From all the people- You can’t be. I hate you.” + Alex/Lucy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> imagine an au where: lucy is still army, alex is still deo but when alex was arrested, supergirl was taken into custody by general lane for ‘testing’ and other such evils. this is the context for this scene.

“ **i can’t believe you’re it.** ” alex says, downright incredulous, staring across the table at lucy fucking lane and the words tattooed across her forearm - her supposed soulmate. 

but if lucy lane is alex danvers’ soulmate, then - 

“it’s not like i’m thrilled about it either.” lucy points out, her hand curling around her beer “i’m just stating the obvious.” 

“what? that your first words to me were ‘alex danvers’ you’re under arrest’ and i replied with ‘go fuck yourself?’” alex tugs down her shirt where the neat lettering of lucy lane’s first words to her sit just under her collarbone. 

“you always were charming.” lucy replies “and anyway, i helped you escape didn’t i?” 

“only after you found out what your father and his precious task force were going to do to my sister.” alex bites “you don’t get a prize for being a decent human being.” she pauses, looks at lucy again and shakes her head “ **from all the people…you can’t be.** ” she lets out a long sigh “ **i hate you**.” 

“and i hate you.” lucy replies tilting her chin in alex’s direction “but unless you’ve got anyone else who’s arrested you lately…” she trails off. 

“then we’re stuck with each other.” alex sighs. 

“at least until after we save your sister.” 

alex sets down her beer “this means i can’t let you die doesn’t it.” 

“i mean you could,” lucy says “but we haven’t even had sex yet, and hate me or not, i’m a great lay.” 

alex chokes. lucy smirks. maybe this had a chance of working out after all. 


	37. danvers sisters & maggie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara + that fuzzy blue blanket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and yes, this became way more than five sentences. but there we have it, such is the writing life. 
> 
> note tw: overstimulation.

alex finds her apartment off it’s hinges and the first thing she does is reach for her gun. she nudges it open and braces herself, prepared for, well, prepared for anything. so it’s almost a relief when she steps through the doorway and all she sees is kara. granted it’s kara curled up on her couch with a pillow in her lap and hands pressed over her ears. it’s kara who barely even moves when alex does her best to arrange the door in some semblance of closed. 

she slips her gun back into the thigh holster and slips off her boots before walking across to kara. kneeling down and not touching her because kara seems to arch away from even her kneeling form. alex studies her for a moment, barely daring to breath before she stands, before she moves quietly to her bedroom. in the bottom drawer of her bedside table alex pulls out a box, 

finds the nicer-than-deo-grade-custom-designed headphones, and then sends a text to maggie. she keeps it short, knowing kara will be able to hear every move she makes. that kara will be focusing on her and her alone, trying to force out the rest of the world. the text is simple 

**need new door. more important, kara’s blue blanket from her couch asap. my apartment**

which makes no sense really, but it gets the point across. alex makes sure her phone is on silent before she changes quickly, into her quietest clothes, all soft sweatpants and a sweatshirt. alex walks back around to kara, presenting her the headphones and watching as kara braces herself to put them on. the half second where her ears are uncovered and the world is too much, too loud and kara is gritting her teeth. it takes her five minutes to unclench her jaw, to reach with shaking hands, for alex’s. 

only capable of handling alex’s hands in hers right now. anything more would be too much, too much. and when maggie arrives it’s with her gun out and worry across her face, but a blue blanket in her arms. she seems to read the situation perfectly because her posture relaxes and she undoes her shoes before walking closer. 

maggie handing the blanket to alex, who squeezes one of kara’s hands, coaxing her silently to open her eyes. maggie starts to turn, to leave, but alex waves her into stillness with her blanket clad hand, kara reaching for it with relief across her face. wrapping herself in it, kara seems to relax even more, enough for alex to ask, voice low, voice soft “can i move you to bed?”

and kara gives a thumbs up, allowing herself to be scooped into alex’s arms, carried through the dark of the apartment and settled onto alex’s bed. clutching the blue blanket, and allowing alex to strip her gently out of work clothes, out of her supergirl suit. allowing herself to be changed into an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, both alex’s, both recently warm so they smell like alex. 

wrapped in the blue blanket and then buried under the duvet, a pillow already drifting towards kara’s arms, alex knows all she can do tonight, is be here. be present, be close. 

so she walks back down to maggie, who has waited, who wraps her arms around alex and kisses her temple. who feels alex relax into her and reaches for her phone, typing out as silently as she can 

_what do you need?_

and all alex can think of right now to type back is 

_you._

[and she has her. maggie may still be learning her danvers girls, but she’s got them both, no matter what]  


	38. director sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> director sanvers + "Lucy isn't due back from DC for another week and Alex and Maggie are having a quiet night in when they get the call. "So my baby sister turned up on my doorstep in full dress blues in the middle of the night and is currently barricaded in my bathroom having a panic attack. What the actual fuck." (aka you got me interested in Lucy and DC and I'd like to see Lois so lets say Metropolis is closer to DC than NC is)"

they’re both asleep when maggie’s phone goes off. maggie rolls over, dragging herself into some state of consciousness as alex gropes for her phone blindly and swipes left, handing it to maggie 

“sawyer.” she says, voice feeling like sandpaper and gravel this late at night. 

“ _this is maggie sawyer?”_

not a voice maggie is familiar with, so she wakes up a little bit more, she sits up a little bit straighter and replies “yes, this is her. who is this?” 

there’s a sigh of relief and then “ _oh thank god. this is uh,”_  there’s a pause “ _this is lois lane.”_

and for half a second maggie’s heart stops, she reaches for alex’s hand and says with as strong a voice as she can manage “lois, is lucy - is everything okay?” 

“ _i- this is embarrassing. but lucy,”_ lois takes a long breath “ _my baby sister turned up on my doorstep in full dress blue in the middle of the night and is now currently barricaded in my bathroom having a panic attack. and i,”_ she lets out a long breath “ _i don’t know how to help her.”_

maggie lets out a sigh of relief and squeezes alex’s hand “i’m going to put you on speaker, okay lois?” there’s a muffled, 

‘sure’

and then maggie is putting the phone on the bed and alex is saying “lois, it’s alex.” 

“ _oh, good.”_ lois breathes “ _you’re both there. i-”_ she pauses “ _how can i help her?”_

maggie mouths ‘panic attack’ to alex, who nods, takes a breath. 

“you say she’s locked herself in the bathroom?” maggie asks, although her heart breaks because that sounds like lucy, 

what she does when dc is too much. when her father is too much. when existing, when existing is too much. alex squeezes maggie’s hand, letting her take the lead on this because maggie knows, 

maggie understands. 

“ _yes.”_ lois replies “ _she won’t open the door.”_

“put us on speakerphone.” maggie says “put the phone by the door.” 

and maggie is making this up as she goes, she closing her eyes and she’s leaning into alex’s touch and trying to picture what she would want if the situations were reversed. there’s a moment and then lois is saying 

“ _it’s all yours.”_

so maggie takes a breath and maggie squeezes alex’s hand and maggie says “lucy? your sister called us.” and maggie doesn’t even know if lucy can hear her, or if lucy wants to hear her voice, 

but alex is squeezing her hand and kissing maggie’s shoulder, so maggie pushes the sleep from her voice and continues “lucy you’re safe, okay? i know if doesn’t feel like it, i know your body is tense and i know it feels like you can’t breathe, but you’re safe. i promise.” 

maggie pauses again, wishing she could see, wishing more than anything she could be in metropolis at this moment. but she can’t “you don’t have to open to the door if you don’t want to luce, okay? just listen to the sound of my voice.” 

she pauses, leaning further into alex’s touch, needing that comfort because she’s flying blind in this. 

flying blind until there’s the scrape of a lock and a door being pulled open and then, 

“ _mags?”_ comes through the phone and god, the way lucy forces the word out, the way it’s so clear that she’s barely breathing. 

“yeah, hey babe. alex is here too.” maggie replies “let’s get your breathing slowed down.” she says, speaking slowly, speaking calmly “can you count to ten for us luce?” 

pause, 

quiet. 

then slowly, one number at a time, lucy counts. 

“ _one. two. three. four.”_ she pauses, 

“you’re doing so good.” alex supplies, speaking gently. 

“ _five.”_ lucy continues “ _six. seven. eight.”_ she pauses again and her breathing is slower, if not just as ragged “ _it was dc.”_ she forces out 

“you don’t have to tell us right now,” maggie reassures her “just focus on breathing, focus on being here with our voices, okay?” 

“ _nine.”_ lucy replies “ _ten. eleven. twelve.”_

maggie isn’t sure how long they sit there, alex, pressing behind maggie, chin resting on the cuve of maggie’s shoulder and hands wrapped around her waist. with lucy on the phone, sometimes counting, sometimes asking for them to speak, for reassurance in only the way they can provide. 

but finally, finally, maggie says carefully “you think you could let lois in to help you?”

“ _oh god.”_ lucy says quietly 

“lucy,” maggie soothes “she called us, she was worried, she’s here to help you okay? we won’t hang up, not if you don’t want us to. but maybe lois can help too? get you changed, like alex would do.” 

“ _she doesn’t have your hoodie.”_ lucy says after a pause, but there’s the sound of a door opening and then the phone is being handed over.

“lois” maggie says “she just needs sleep at this point. help her change into something comfortable, lucy should have something of alex’s or mine backed in her bag. and don’t - she’s not going to want to be alone. despite what she says. just, stay close?” 

“ _she’s my sister,”_ lois says, with a voice full of regret “ _it’s the least i can do.”_

 _“_ lois,” maggie says gently “she came to you. she could have come home or she could have stayed in a hotel, but she came to you. that means something. she trusts you to look after her. and you know how to do that.” 

“ _i do.”_ lois nods “ _i’ll put you back on with her.”_

and the night passes like that, the muffled sounds of lois helping lucy change, lucy talking with muffled, mumbled words over the phone. maggie leaning into alex, both aching to have lucy in their arms, but tomorrow, 

tomorrow.


	39. danvers sisters - ace!kara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> danvers sisters + "Hi there. Just wanted to say, I am thoroughly enjoying your PacRim AU, AND, I loved that ace!Kara story you wrote. Just curious if you anticipate writing any more of ace!kara? Or was that kind of a one-and-done deal? (Either way, your writing rocks, hope you have a good day!)"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here, have some ace!kara coming out to alex. feel free to send me more prompts related to ace!kara if there’s something specific you’d like to see. enjoy! 
> 
> [and thank you for the kinds words about the superpac!au :) :)]

you are twisting hands and butterflies. you are putting your glasses on, taking them off, and putting them on again just before the door to your apartment opens. you are 

“i’m fine.” 

even before alex asks “what’s wrong.” 

because she can tell. of course she can tell. she’s your big sister, your protecter and you’ve got a pillow in your lap because otherwise you may curl in on yourself instead. 

alex hangs her coat across the back of a chair and she slips her boots off as well, walking across hardwood in soft, quiet socks. you assume it was the closed windows that gave you away. or perhaps how you didn’t come to the door when you hear her heartbeat on the stairs. 

“kara.” she says, sitting down on the couch next to you, waiting for you to reach for her with one hand, keeping the pillow in your lap with the other -

and the way she says your name, it’s not a question, it expects nothing of you, her name from your lips is a balm. and you curl into her, and then back around the pillow. you nod your permission, let alex’s hands wrap around your waist as she presses a kiss to the top of your head. 

“whatever it is,” she says sometime later “you don’t have to talk to me about it if you’re not ready.” 

and perhaps that, above her touch, about her heartbeat and her promised love, is what makes you the most ready - 

makes you feel the most brave to say 

“i think,” you start, and then stop, take a breath, and then let out a long calming one - closing your eyes and thinking of the moment you knew.

or rather, you’ve always known, 

that you didn’t want sex in the ‘normal’ way. that when it comes to giving, that you enjoy, sometimes. but receiving, 

no thank you. 

you’d pieced that together over time. 

through trial and error and wondering why you came away from sex feeling, off instead of buzzed. like this world kept telling you, you should be. 

you focus on the moment you found the words, found who sections of internet dedicated and filled with people who felt like you. 

a whole new world of possibilities, and explanations and the realization that, 

you’re not broken. 

you’re asexual. 

you haven’t said it yet, not out loud. 

but maybe tonight, here with alex, you will, you’ll be able to. 

“it’s just,” you pause, stop, for someone who writes for a living, you’re not doing very well with words at the present “do you know the term asexual?”

although, of course she does. 

you feel alex nod, feel her hands steady and sure against you - her heartbeat is calm, is breathing even. you follow her lead, it’s easy to when alex is so steadfast. 

“that’s me.” you say “i’m,” and you take a breath, focusing on the kitchen table “i’m asexual. ace. i’m ace.” 

you’re holding your breath, you know it, feel oxygen, nitrogen and all the others molecules suspended there -  trapped in your lungs. waiting, waiting for alex’s response. 

“breathe,” alex prompts, squeezing you gently “i love you,” she adds immediately after that, “no matter what. and you being ace, it doesn’t change anything. you,” she says, kissing the top of your head “are valid. and point me in the direction of anyone who says otherwise. i’ll shoot them.” 

and you know, 

you know alex would. 

but she’s the only person you’ve told so far. and for the moment, curling into her chest, you’re content for it to stay that way. 


	40. director sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> director danvers + "Lois gets kidnapped, Alex and Maggie can't find Lucy. Turns out she's at James's. They're used to waiting out these situations together and breakup or no some things remain. Lights dim, tv muted, booze and memories of every crisis they've survived."

maggie hears it from alex, who heard it from kara, just as kara was headed to metropolis to help superman. so of course, maggie’s first call is lucy because lois has been kidnapped, and strained relationship or no, kidnapping is serious business. but lucy doesn’t pick up the first three times maggie calls, and when alex tries, from the back of maggie’s parked bike, 

she doesn’t pick up either. 

so they’re worried. more than worried really - when alex gets the idea to call james. it rings twice and goes to voicemail, a clear sign that the call was ignored, which really only ratchets the worry up some more. wondering where lucy would go, they know she’s not at the deo, she’s not at home, she’s not answering her phone. they’ve checked the parks where lucy goes for walks with her camera and the crossfit gym that lucy loves to go to when she has time. 

so calling james was a last resort, with maggie’s worry through the roof and alex trying to stay calm enough to think of a next move. 

when james’ texts. it’s short, typos as if he was typing one handed: 

**lucy’s here. you’re welcome to come over.**

which, of course they want. so it’s alex driving maggie’s bike, because maggie’s hands are shaking too much to go steady. and then it’s walking up the stairs to james’ place, opening a door and seeing the curtains pulled, soft lamps barely illuminating the space. the only other source of light coming from the tv, on mute. it smells of lukewarm takeout and there are beer bottles on the coffee table, placed carefully amongst scattered photos and newspaper clippings. 

lucy herself is tucked into james’ side. her head resting on his shoulder, one of his arms wrapped around her. she seems asleep, or half asleep because when the door closes, she shifts in his arms, blinks and mumbles unintelligibly, gesturing for them to come over. 

and so they sit like that, together lucy curled into james’ side still as they watch superman and supergirl on the news. lucy reaching for alex’s hand, stretching her feet into maggie’s lap. not saying anything, with eyes dark and haunted, but taking solace in their presence.


	41. sanvers - nsfw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sanvers + "Kinda craving some Alex and Maggie smut in the DEO. Like heated and rushing maybe?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is exactly as nsfw as you would expect it to be. enjoy!

the have actually no time. 

in fact they have less than no time because there is an entire class of deo recruits that are currently having a water break. but god, watching alex spar with vasquez 

_does things_

to maggie. because god, vasquez is a good fighter. 

but alex? 

alex is amazing. 

[and look, maggie knows that alex works at it, she knows alex still spends entire days training and practicing. training against people bigger than her, taller than her and 

“what if they’re smaller than you, danvers?” 

“why do you think i train with you?”] 

so look, maggie knows that alex works hard to kick ass this easily 

but fuck, if maggie doesn’t love knowing that, and having seen that, 

and then having alex pressed against a wall, kissing alex’s neck, nipping at the skin, not enough to bruise, but enough to make alex kiss. and god, alex is writhing against maggie, moaning into the hand that maggie’s got pressed against alex’s mouth. 

maggie laughing, low and rumbling in her chest, 

“something you want here danvers?” she teases, punctuating her question with a kiss. 

and alex nods. 

and maggie thinks she’s prepared. but when will maggie remember that she can never truly be prepared for alex danvers. 

because alex is nodding and then alex is kissing maggie back, and kissing maggie hard and then it’s maggie with her back against the wall. and alex’s hands are on her belt and it’s 

“do you want this mags?” and “can i?” 

and they barely have time for maggie to say “yes, yes, oh fuck alex.” 

because the water break was five minutes and alex is never late. 

so it’s less foreplay, and more 

holy shit alex is on her knees pulling down maggie pants and her panties in one go. 

and maggie is soaking wet and alex will tease later, but right now its “fingers mags?” 

and maggie nodding, maggine bringing a hand to alex’s hair and another to her own mouth. 

[maggie is good at keeping quiet - or she was before she met alex - but that’s a story for another day] 

right now she’s moaning into her own hand as alex slips one finger, then two inside her easily. and it’s alex’s mouth on maggie’s clit and goddamn 

alex is wasting no time. 

and it’s not going to take much - 

watching alex fight does a great many thing to maggie really. maggie feels alex’s fingers inside her and she’s quickly losing the ability to produce conscious thought because the flat of alex’s tongue is pressing against maggie’s clit, and then it’s just the tip and alex is sucking oh so lightly. 

and fuck, fuck, fuck, 

maggie’s hand is tight in alex’s hair, and alex’s free hand has encouraged maggie’s leg over alex’s shoulder, supporting her as maggie starts to shake. because maggie is spread, and maggie is getting fucking hard and it feels, 

so, so, so, so good 

and maggie has to bite the soft skin between her thumb and forefinger to stop from crying out when she comes because 

_fuck._

and then alex is standing and alex is pulling maggies hand down from her mouth, and she’s kissing maggie. and alex tastes like maggie, and she’s smirking and then she’s backing up because she has a class full of recruits to train and 

look,

alex danvers is never late, 

except today. 


	42. director sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> director sanvers + "How's about some college director Sanvers exam angst to get us through exam seasons? (Pls n thank)"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to all of of y’all going through finals season, this one is for you. enjoy y’all.

it’s that critical time wherein maggie needs to either commit to attempting sleep, or she needs to say fuck it - walk into starbucks and get the largest coffee she can and stay awake until her seven am final. basically, it’s one in the morning during finals week and the entire campus is consumed by stress. 

and maggie, well, her body is saying one thing, 

_bed bed bed bed bed_

but her mind is telling her another 

_you need to look at those lecture notes you got from m’gann right now or else you’ll never remember them. not ever. not even if you looked at the right before the final. see you have to do it now._

so maggie is sighing and rubbing her eyes and twisting in her chair because the chairs in the student union may be he most comfortable - but nothing’s comfortable when you’ve been sitting in it for the past ten hours. she’s mid-yawn when a hand trails across her shoulders and a kiss is pressed to her temple.

“hey you,” comes lucy’s voice.

[lucy who had all her finals within the first two days of exam week, and is now done.] 

and it’s lucy setting down a waterbottle, her hands kneading the muscles across maggie’s shoulders. her thumbs digging into the knots along either side of her spine. maggie groans, arching into the touch and melting in her chair 

“you’re a hero, anyone ever tell you that luce?” she asks, tipping her head back, seeking a kiss. 

lucy smiles into the upside down kiss, squeeze maggie’s shoulders and saying “come on, you’re coming home.” 

maggie sighs “i cant, i’ve got-” 

“sociological theory at seven, i know babe.” lucy says gently, firmly “but you’re going to do better if you get some sleep and have a good breakfast.” 

maggie sighs, groans, nods and accepts defeat “you’ll wake me up? make sure i’m not late.” 

lucy presses a kiss to maggie’s head “of course. first though you have to help me pull alex from the health sciences library.” 

maggie laughs, standing slowly and easing the soreness out of her back and legs “good luck, i’m pretty sure she slept there last night.” 

“between the two of us,” lucy says “we should be able to manage.” 

magge stands and her whole body feels tired, her brain feels like mush and god - who’s idea was finals week anyway? she stands there for a moment until lucy is wrapping her arms around maggie, kissing her temple saying “breathe babygirl,” she murmurs, arms stroking up and down maggie’s back “i’ve got you.” 

and maybe, at any other point, maggie would think it ridiculous to have tears in her eyes, standing in her girlfriends arms in the student union - but this is finals week and none of the usual rules apply. 

except of course that even as maggie presses her forehead into lucy’s neck, and even as she sniffs wetly, even as she pulls lucy closer because she is _stressed_ and she is worried and it doesn’t feel like there’s enough time to do anything. and maggie can’t fail any of her finals because she’s on scholarships and those have grade requirements and she’s playing softball and she needs certain grades to stay on the team, and, and, and, 

“i’ve got you.” lucy repeats gently “let it out.” 

and maggie does. god she does. 

five minutes, ten, until finally maggie’s shoulders stop shaking and lucy tilts maggie’s chin up, using her thumbs to wipe the last of the tears “come on,” she says “i’ve got james’ car.” 

lucy swipes maggie’s backpack before maggie has a chance to, slinging over one shoulder and finding maggie’s with the other. they night air is cool and maggie shivers into her jacket - technically it’s lucys but who’s keep track at this point. 

james’ car is beat up, but well loved. she sinks into the passenger seat, barely having the energy to pull her seatbelt across. once lucy’s in maggie, eyes closed, seeks out lucy’s hand. 

maggie’s asleep before they’re at the health sciences library. 

the next thing she knows is there’s the hitch of the rear door opening and the thwump of a bag hitting the seat, being pushed over. a hand on her shoulder and maggies eyes flutter open to see alex, leaning forward “hey,” maggie says softly, sleep clear in her voice, tilting her head to kiss alex’s cheek “love you.” 

alex returns the kiss, then she’s in the backseat, sprawled across the whole thing, head on backpacks. getting home seems to stretch on, driving under the yellow-orange streetlights, and down darker streets not as well lit. the disaster shack as james likes to call it, is mostly dark. soft lights spilling from the living room window. 

[there are times when sharing an eight bedroom house with their friends is the worst thing, but there are times, like tonight where the three of them stumble in the door and it’s nice to feel home] 

lucy is pushing both alex and maggie towards the stairs, telling them to get in bed, she’ll be there in a moment. held up only to check on james and winn in the living room, going over notes for a calculus final they both have the next day. 

“get some sleep.” she reminds them. 

it seems that only kara is already out - except as lucy gets upstairs, she can see the lamplight spilling from the third floor-attic space. walking up the steep stairs, lucy sees kara in bed, fast asleep with engineering notes spread around her, head resting on the shoulder of a one lena luthor. lena is still awake, a highlighter in one hand, a page of notes in the other. 

she and lucy’s gazes meet and they share a soft smile before lucy turns and head backs downstairs. 

the disaster shack indeed.

her girlfriends are already in bed, two heaps of clothes pooled on the floor and lucy closes their bedroom door - stripping down to her underwear and finding a sleep shirt. 

“luce,” alex mumbles “c’mere.” 

“coming.” lucy replies “sleep babe.” 

before climbing into bed lucy checks her phone, various alarms set to cook breakfast for her finals laden friends, as well as wake maggie with plenty of time. for now though she sets her phone on the charger and climbs into bed, warm already from maggie and alex. it’s not that she liked having three finals in one day, it’s that now she’s able to look after her girlfriends, help keep them sane, and fed and loved. 


	43. director sanvers & kara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> director danvers & kara + "Hi! Are you taking prompts? I had this idea about Alex and Lucy having a normal day at the DEO when a police car chase comes up on the news and they can tell that Maggie's patrol car is on the lead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the above prompt, feat. kara. enjoy!

when you’d asked for 

“any kind of trouble at all please,” 

what you had not been asking for, was a car chase. sure, you were bored, and sure, a car chase means criminal activity to be halted. it’s just also that car chases have a lot of clear and present danger to the population as a whole and even for you, there are too many variables to consider. 

at the present, you’ve got the suspects white panel van in the lead. one queen vic with one of those flashing blue lights on the dash and four squad cars in support. not to mention a helicopter or two filming the whole thing. 

like you mentioned, a lot of variables. 

plus it’s rush hour so traffic is all but crashing into each other in order to not get clipped in the pursuit. 

you have a headache. 

but also, 

you have larger problems because all of a sudden you’re picking up a familiar heartbeat. the beat is heightened, you can all but hear the adrenaline racing through maggie sawyers system and 

 _oh_ ,

 _oh no,_  

it takes one blink with your x-ray vision to figure out that in the lead car, the one pushing it to ninety as the panel van slips onto the freeway and perhaps the safest diver in this rodeo, 

is maggie. 

you speak into the comms “uh, alex, lucy,” you start “just a heads up,” 

“ _that’s maggie’s car.”_ comes alex in kara’s ear “ _we know.”_

there’s an unspoken,

 _keep her safe, please._  

that follows as all you can hear are the sounds of their breathing. you can imagine then both standing in the command center, the chase pulled up on the tv. you can picture them both standing shoulder to shoulder, all but holding hands, neither of them breathing after a while, both of their hearts threatening to pound through their ribs. 

“i’ve got her.” you say firmly, steadily, you’ve got this situation under control. 

so you watch, with keen eyes and alert ears, and keep scanning the road ahead, checking for upcoming dangers. even though you know, 

you know, 

this car chase will not end well. they rarely ever do, in your opinion. and this one, it has to potential to end terribly. you’re putting the pieces together as the van crashes through a construction sign, shuddering and vibrating as it speeds across gravel. ahead, you see what they can not, 

the end of the road. 

a section where bridge repairs are happening and for the moment there is no road, just metal and structure and oh no, no,

gorges with sharp rocks at the bottom and steep cliff walls. 

so you’re acting quick and you’re acting fast, and what you’re doing is landing, standing ten feet or so from the cliff edge. you’re bracing your body for impact, you’re holding your arms out, 

and the panel van?

they swerve. 

you feel a mirror shatter against your shoulder and then they’re past you and barreling towards the edge. 

time seems to slow in the seconds that follow. 

where all of a sudden you see maggie’s eyes go wide, wider as she registers that you’re standing in front of her, feet in front of her. maggie’s eyes following you as she slams on her breaks and you’re turning. you see the car, see the edge and you know, 

god you know,

this can’t end well.

but you are supergirl.

you are a genius and you are calculating distance and time and force and then you’re pushing off your back foot. you’re diving, you’re flying, you’re lunging for the car, grabbing at it, anyway you can. 

hand wrapping around a tire, the rear bumper. 

there is nothing in your ears but thousands of racing pulses. maggie’s clearest of all, you can hear her getting out of the car, hear her footsteps running across the gravel. you hear the clip coming off her holster and the way her hand curls around her gun. 

you’re digging your heels in, 

and it’s not hard, 

to haul the car, currently perilously perched half off the cliff. 

you pull it back so all four tires are on the ground. so maggie and her partner can take a side and suddenly there are commands of 

“put your hands in the air” 

and 

“climb out of the car slowly,” 

and then there’s alex in your ear, and lucy too. both breathing hard, alex’s voice strained and “ _good job supergirl.”_ she’s saying 

because if you hadn’t been there? 

one car at the very least was going over the edge, and maybe a second, depending on physics, on friction, on just how good are maggie’s cars breaks?

it’s only when both the driver and the passenger are in the back of squad cars that maggie finds her way over to you. puts a hand on your shoulder, says “thank you, supergirl.” 

and you’re nodding, you’re saying something like “of course, detective, anytime.” 

but later, when you’re swinging by alex’s place with food, it’s maggie laid out on the couch with her head in lucy’s lap. she’s got an ice pack over one shoulder - her left shoulder - and a book in her hand, one that she’s reading outloud as lucy cards a hand through maggie’s hair. 

you smile at the normalcy. 

at the comfort they give each other. 

you do not smile at the bruising across her shoulder from slamming into the seatbelt. maggie catches you staring and says “it’s better than what would have happened if i’d gone onto that bridge, little danvers.” 

which, she’s right, but still. 

so you’re sighing and you’re nodding and alex is stepping out of the bathroom, freshly showered and in one of maggie’s ncpd t-shirts. she sees you and she sees her girls and everyone is home and everyone is safe. 

it’s alex who asks “you up for a movie night?” 

and it’s maggie who adds “we might even let you pick one.” 

“as long as it’s animated.” lucy supplies. 

and all you can do is say yes, of course, you’d love to. 


	44. director sanvers - nb!alex - touchstarved!lucy verse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> she hangs her jacket up on a hook, sets her helmet down and hears the soft padding of footsteps down the hall. when she looks up, it’s lucy, with eyes bright and concerned and not saying anything initially because she doesn’t need to,
> 
> not when the shadows in maggies eyes are this deep and dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> associated with, slash in the same ‘verse as touchstarved!lucy although not essential reading to understanding this piece. more that i’m building to a larger piece w/in that ‘verse and this is a building block. 
> 
> warnings y’all tw for: referenced child abuse, panic attacks, minor blood.

it’s

“don’t you think you can just stand there and tell me how to do my job, lane.”

accompanied by the rough pushing in of a chair and there’s the dropping of a file onto the table, with lucy replying hotly

“why don’t you just come out and say it alex, you don’t think i have enough experience in the field to make the calls i’m supposed to make.”

and maggie?

she’s doing her best. she always does on the nights when work comes home with her partners. but this? this anger and this getting in each others faces, and this, explosiveness?

it makes maggie tremble. and it makes maggie shake. and maggie knows they probably aren’t even aware that she’s in the room at this point. and it’s not even really their fault. most of the time she has control of her past, she can choose if and when her demons surface in a public a space as their kitchen. tonight though? with her partners in each other’s faces, hands gesturing, bruises from the day shining across alex’s shoulders, their cheek,

lucy shouts something

“if you would just fucking listen to me,”

and maggie blinks,

she could be eight. she could be nine or eleven or fourteen. any number of ages, any number of years spent shrinking in the face of her parents argument haunting their house.

alex’s hand slams the table and maggie’s face stings with remembered cuts, the memories of bruises and hiding her face with long hair. maggie grips the drawer handle and focuses on the present, because her cheek isn’t burning, there aren’t bruises on her upper arms. it’s too much and too loud and too familiar all at once.

she can barely breathe.

even though maggie is repeating, she’s okay. it’s not her parents, no one here wants to hurt her.

but still,

it’s loud voices and angry gestures and maggie, eventually,

can not.

so she takes a breath and she finds her keys and she hates that her voice sounds so small, that her hands are shaking even as she shoves them into the pockets of her leather jacket, but this is a matter of self preservation,

so it’s

“i’m going to james’.”

and they don’t hear her the first time, so maggie rounds the island and steels herself because she’s not eight and looking for a permission slip signed,

she has control.

“i’m going to james’.” she repeats, steady, doing her best not to betray anything because her partners need to work this out, the need to shout and yell and worry loudly about each other. just, maggie can’t be here for it.

when they finally pause, looking at her it’s with

“are you okay mags?”

and

“we’re sorry mag-“

but maggie holding up a hand, maggie continuing to speak with a steady voice that doesn’t betray her “just” she says “i’m going to james’. we’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

and she seeks their eye contact because it’s what she needs, because it’s the comfort she takes with her as she closes the front door. james has pizza and netflix waiting. he asks only once, after the first movie, if maggie wants to talk about it, because he noticed how hunched her shoulders are.

and he said yes when she asked if the could skip the violent action flicks tonight.

and he noticed how she shied away from the usual cuddles,

so he asked.

and he asked only once, because maggie’s response is to take a deep breath and say

“it’s not you that i need to talk to.”

and james gets it. and james understands, so they watch another movie, and they’re midway between james insisting maggie take the bed, and maggie insisting james is too damn tall to be sleeping on his tiny ass couch,

when her phone goes off.

it’s not a text,

it’s a phone call. and maggie knows she could pretend to be asleep, and she knows kara will drop it -

but kara could, if she wanted to, check and hear that maggie is awake. so maggie swipes left answering the call,

“hey kara,” she says, her voice rough with sleep.

“/maggie/“ is kara’s response and her voice is a whisper as she walks away from the living room “/did i wake you?/“

“no,” maggie says, sitting down on the edge of james’ bed “no, don’t worry, is everything okay?”

“with me, yeah, yeah. i’m good. “ kara says, pausing and then saying “i - i heard that you weren’t home, and i heard…” she trails off “i heard the fighting, i wanted to make sure you were okay.” she settles with.

“i’m at james’.” maggie says softly, and she can almost imagine kara nodding, and she can almost imagine kara fiddling with the edges of her glasses. and god, maggie imagined a text from alex and lucy each, or even a phone call,

but kara calling?

because she hear the fighting and she heard that maggie wasn’t home?

it warms maggie’s heart and she loses her grip on james’ comforter enough to feel blood flow come back to her hands and for her to say “i’m okay. it just brought up,” she pauses “they know how to fight.”

and kara laughs lightly, “i’m not surprised.” there’s a pause and then “do you want to know what happened today?”

“this is likely to be the most non-biased report i get.” maggie replies, cradling the phone between jaw and shoulder as she slips off her socks and pushes herself up to lean against james’ headboard.

“you know how there were those weird burn marks just outside the city limits…” is how kara starts,

and maggie listens because kara tells the story well, and kara tells it fairly evenly - crediting lucy’s call as perhaps the right one tactically, but saying that they all know alex -

which they do, as does lucy,

so alex was reckless, and loyal and fierce and all they things they’re loved for,

and they nearly got killed.

which maggie had more or less assumed, but it’s stomach churning to hear regardless. and kara finishes with a yawn and with

“they got into it at the deo first, in lucy’s office. so, you know, everyone heard. then alex left.”

although maggie imagines that left is a kind way to put ’stormed the fuck out’ she gets the drift. and she can piece the rest of the evening together: alex coming home with storm clouds in her eyes. lucy staying to finish the paperwork because she’s responsible and even though she wants to be anywhere but at the office, maggie can imagine lucy staying until the reports on the day are filed.

“you sure you’re okay?” kara asks, as gently as she can, shaking maggie from her thoughts.

“i will be little danvers,” maggie says “just need some sleep.”

which is not a lie,

but also the fact that maggie knows she’s not going to sleep much, so even when she says goodnight to kara,

even when she walks back out and see’s james ‘asleep’ on the couch,

maggie doesn’t head back to his bedroom. she ends up somewhere in between, standing in the hallway as her phone vibrates once,

twice.

and it’s not kara calling back.

it’s alex.

so maggie steps back into the bedroom, but doesn’t sit down. she answers the call and keeps her voice low and her words even because she still remembers the yelling

“hey al,” she says gently,

/“it’s both of us.”/ comes the strained reply, and it’s lucy’s voice.

“hey luce,” maggie replies, and then, then she’s unsure - she doesn’t want to do this now, and maggie doesn’t want to go back to a fractured home.

the cold well of a familiar silence filling corners of a home that maggie never wanted touched by the shadows of her past. so maggie waits, she hates the silence on the other end because it sounds like sneaking into the kitchen because they didn’t get to finish dinner. and it sounds like finding the quietest food possible because her father is finally asleep in front of the tv and

/“you there mags?”/

and maggie can’t do this tonight,

she knows they mean well,

but her chest is tight and she wants to sleep off this emotional hangover, so maggie says, with the courage that she has,

“i’m here.” and then “i’ll talk to you guys tomorrow, okay?”

because she can’t say more, and she’s suddenly exhausted and small and just,

she wants to collapse into this bed that isn’t hers,

[moving in was a big, big step, but it means the bed that’s hers is filled with demons]

/“okay mags.”/ and /“you’re safe right?”/

“i’m at james’.” is all she can say, and “i love you guys.”

because she does,

she does.

but tonight  she’s crawling under james’ duvet and pulling it up, up, up and

not sleeping.

wishing for sleep. trying for sleep.

but certainly not sleeping.

which is expected, but she didn’t expect for the ghosts of her past to rise behind her eyes, the echoes of shouts and slaps and screams. so when maggie finally realizes where she wants to be,

it’s late.

or early depending on how she looks at the time as she’s straddling her bike. slipping on her helmet and riding back to the only place she wants to be.

really.

because even though opening the door to their apartment brings back memories of shouting, of open palms hitting hard wood,

maggie is also flooded with other things

kissing lucy senseless against the door.

the first night they spent in this place, with nothing but an old couch, a tv and mario kart.

alex’s hands down lucy’s arms when the fourth of july rolls around, and lucy pressing her back into maggie’s chest.

this place is home.

this place is safe.

and closing the door as quietly as she can behind her leaves maggie standing in the dark. it leaves her taking a steadying breath and it leaves her putting her keys in the bowl by the door.

she hangs her jacket up on a hook, sets her helmet down and hears the soft padding of footsteps down the hall. when she looks up, it’s lucy, with eyes bright and concerned and not saying anything initially because she doesn’t need to,

not when the shadows in maggies eyes are this deep and dark.

“c’mere.” lucy says finally, gently, gently, and maggie just nods, follows lucy into the kitchen.

she slips onto a stool and watches as lucy makes tea, something chamomile and calming maggie’s sure. watching lucy work, maggie can see the tension across her shoulders, down her spine.

“alex is asleep.” lucy says finally, voice low “you know what big missions to do them.” she sets a mug in front of maggie’s hands, sitting down next to her.

maggie wraps her hands around the cup, soaking up its heat “are you two-“ she starts, pauses, stops.

lucy nods in the dark, her hands wrapped around her own mug “they scared the hell outta me today.”

maggie swallows hard, “kara told me what happened.”

“she tell you -“

“that tactically you were in the right.” maggie finishes, but she’s exhausted and her words are sharp and lucy reaches out, a hand on her shoulder

“i’m sorry.” she says, although what she’s apologizing for, maggie’s not quite sure what she’s apologizing for.

“you didn’t-“ she starts

“alex and i,” lucy says “we didn’t think about you.”

and maggie tries not to bristle, but she does, because she doesn’t want to have to be considered. she doesn’t want to have to be thought of every time an adult raises their voice.

“you don’t-“ she starts “you’re allowed to fight.” maggie settles on, curling away from lucy’s touch.

“but fighting bad enough that you feel like you have to leave,” lucy says, letting her hand come back to her mug “that’s not okay.”

and maggie can’t argue with that so she takes a sip of her tea instead.

“i’m glad you came home.” lucy says quietly.

“i couldn’t sleep.” maggie admits “i-“ she starts, pauses “there are pieces you don’t know.” is what she eventually says “about me, my - my family.”

and maggie can’t do this tonight, without alex, but the words are here and lucy is sitting close but not touching “about why i had to leave tonight.”

and maybe lucy understands, maybe she pieces together what maggie won’t say tonight, because she stands slowly, slowly, tea forgotten and says

“come to bed maggie.”

and maggie does.

because lucy asked, because lucy and alex are soft. because they protect maggie, they make her feel safe, and loved and one night of stirred memories can not taint them.

so maggie comes, and maggie knows lucy doesn’t want to be touched, reads in the way lucy does everything else that she can - bringing maggie pajamas, a cup of water by the bed, pulling back the sheets and letting maggie settle in the middle of them both.

and then, in the darkness of it all, when they’re settled and calm and alex has drifted closer to maggie in their sleep,

lucy shifts, and reaches for maggie’s hand, lacing their fingers,

falling asleep like that.

and maggie doesn’t sleep.

not really.

but at least her, her demons aren’t so loud, the shadows aren’t so dark.

—

the next night she gets home last.

maggie knows alex and lucy are trying to make it up to her -

there’s dinner waiting and they’re tangled on the couch when maggie walks in. but maggie knows what’s coming,

she knows what she wants to say.

has been thinking about it all damn day. it’s left her stilted and scared and running through the last time she tried to talk about this.

[with emily.]

[it didn’t go bad, but it didn’t really go at all]

tonight is different.

tonight is maggie walking over to the armchair across from the couch and she’s collapsing into it. she’s sitting in her leather jacket with her keys in her hands and her boots on, and

god,

god,

she doesn’t want to do this.

really, she doesn’t.

but maggie takes a breath, and maggie grips the keys - their keys. one to their apartment, one to lucy’s dc place. one to her bike. one to kara’s apartment.

“mags,” alex starts, concerned, even with lucy’s hand on their back.

and maybe it feels easier like this - to talk about this when running is all maggie wants to do.  getting up and fleeing this apartment - but to where?

this is the home she didn’t have for so many tears.

these people before her, the people she loves,

they’re her family.

so she takes a breath and says it all at once

“my parents, they fought when i was growing up.” she lets it hang, summons the rest of the words “like they fought a lot.” to say the least, she figures, clenching all of her muscles to say what needs to next “and my dad he, he used to smack me around.”

it’s the first time she’s ever said it outloud like that

“i mean,” she swallows, can’t look at them “you don’t get kicked into the streets at fourteen if you live in a healthy home.” she tries to brush it off, tries to play it off, but

she can’t.

not this.

the rest of her pain? sure.

but not this.

“and i - you know i’ve never told anyone. not even my aunt. she,” maggie is looking out the window “she guessed i think. “ another pause, trying for more composure “but i’ve never had to talk about it. because i got out of there, right?” she takes breath “i got away, it’s been nearly two decades and i haven’t been near the man, but” she pauses “but it still fucking gets me.”

her eyes are watering and god, that’s the last thing maggie wants,

to cry, but her hand is curled around the keys and she can feel the teeth digging into the soft skin of her palm. it feels like she’s pressing her boots through the floor in an effort to stay grounded, to stay

here.

she wipes away the first tear before it falls. maggie sniffs and looks at the floor, her white knuckle grip still firmly around her keys.

“i don’t - i see a kid at work with the bruises, the ones i used to hide and it makes me so angry. but there, there i can do something. i can arrest the bastard. so it’s like, that’s good right? what gets me, it’s-“  

maggie stops again, forcing herself to take a breath.

tears are running down her cheeks and she’s not looking at alex, she’s not looking at lucy,

but she can feel them looking at her.

their concern and their care and their thinly veiled angry at her father: maggie feels it all. and then some.

“it’s the jumping at shadows.” she says finally “i’m a cop. i’m a fucking police detective and i still -“ she pauses, she lets out a long, ragged breath “all it takes is one noise,” her eyes are closed “and i’m eight years old again getting slapped for stealing cookies from the cookie jar.” she says finally,

and her voice, it’s hollow.

maggie is squeezing her eyes shut because god,

god,

she presses her back into the chair, she brings her knees to her chest because

fuck, fuck, fuck

why did she do this?

talk about it?

bring it up?

she didn’t have to. but too late now.

now where she’s got her forehead pressed to her knees. where she’s making herself as small, as small as she possible. forearms pressed to shins, spine curling, just small,

smaller.

and then,

“maggie,”

a voice through the panic, through the onslaught of too much,

“maggie can you open your eyes?”

can she?

probably?

she tries, sees alex kneeling in front of her. alex with soft eyes and soft hands hovering over maggies.

“you’re safe.” alex says repeats, their voice steady, their voice sure. their hand covering maggies, easing her grip away from the keys.

as she unfurls her hand it’s easy to see where the teeth have bitten into her skin. where blood is pooling in tiny wells.

“you’re safe mags, i promise.” alex says, her hands skating down maggie’s shins, curling around the backs of her boots “you’re so safe and so brave.” alex says, gently, gently “you’re safe here.”

to her left, there’s lucy, kneeling waiting,

[sometimes lucy is okay with touch and touching, sometimes she can put her hand on the small of maggie’s back]

[sometimes not, sometimes lucy is still figuring out what she wants, what she doesn’t]

[and it’s okay. it’s okay. they’re okay.]

“you’re so brave.” lucy says, once maggie meets her gaze, speaking softly “okay? and you’re loved. and here, in this apartment, no one’s going to hurt you.”

maggie nods, and she lets alex pry her legs from where they were pressed against maggie’s chest. she lets alex lace their fingers together, and  alex who gestures for lucy with one hand.

lucy who comes and sits close, who presses a kiss to maggie’s temple

“can i ask you about last night?” alex asks,

and maggie nod slowly, nods once.

“lucy and i fighting it -“ alex starts, trailing off “it triggered you?”

and it’s complicated because yes.

but also no.

because it wasn’t so much the words, not at first. that set her on edge. it was the chair getting pushed in and the files against the table, and the flat of alex’s palm against the table and

“not the fighting.” maggie says slowly,  looking away, feeling a hand on her jaw and knowing alex’s touch when she feels it “the fighting, that’s, okay.” which, it isn’t, but fighting is normal.

fighting is what maggie is used to.

[not from alex and lucy, no, they - rarely do they fight like that[

“last night it was,” and maggie takes a breath she closes her eyes and she tells them.

because she remembers every instances that made her jump, that sent her back.

and she tells them, even though maggie doesn’t want to, because

this isn’t their fault,

but she knows they’ll apologize anyway.

“the slamming and the banging.” lucy supplies, saying it so maggie doesn’t have to.

because lucy gets it.

alex too,

but of course in the moment it’s hard to notice, it’s hard to be aware. but now, with maggie so desperately wanting to curl around herself,  it all makes sense.

“i’m sorry.” maggie finishes, because that’s all she has left. it’s all she feels like she can say to them.

which is why, hearing a break in alex’s voice, feeling lucy’s hand on hers, it surprises maggie. she looks up and it’s half startled, half shaken, because alex is saying with shining eyes and fire in her voice “you have nothing to apologize for maggie.”

and they don’t lie to each other,

so it must be true?

maggie blinks and she feels a sob welling up in her chest because she hasn’t talked about this before, she has never felt safe enough, loved enough, to expose this part of her past. and these people before her, her partners,

they’re angry on her behalf and they’re gentle with her.

alex asking quietly “can i hold you?”

because those sobs that were welling up, maggie is consumed by them  and she’s shaking and alex wants to hold, wants to help, but they won’t - not without maggies permission.

so when it’s given,

when maggie is nodding and reaching for alex, letting herself be pulled onto the floor,

maggie breaks.

perhaps for the first time, she feels. because alex’s arms are strong and safe, and lucy’s feather light touches on her back are steady and sure. and maggie’s never had space to /feel/ like this before.

her hands curling into alex’s shirt, her forehead pressing against alex’s collarbone.

[maggie feels]

and the damn breaks,

and no one telling her she’s crying too loud, no mother standing in the doorway looking at maggie’s tears but unable or unwilling to help.

maggie feels,

the fear

the anger

the pain

it ripples through her. and it / _fucking hurts/_

but not half as much as it did all those years ago

and that’s something.


	45. director sanvers - nsfw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> if you're still taking asks--director Sanvers and a bit more about Maggie and Lucy topping Alex together?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: minor discussion of blood

you need to feel.

there is blood on your hands, in the creases of your palms and dried in the crevices of your fingernails. you jaw itches and when you run the sleeve of your shirt over the skin it comes away sticky with drying blood. your body is exhausted, shoulder aching from being all but thrown through drywall. fresh bruises across your body, covering and blending with those of old.

you need to feel.

the apartment door closes with a soft hitch behind you, and for the first time since leaving,

you feel yourself able to relax. not just the ‘everyone made it back from the op mostly alive’ relax, but a

‘oh, i am home. i am safe. the day is done.’

relax that strikes you to your very core. where it weakens your knees and one hand is dropping keys into the bowl by the door, the other as grabbing backwards at the door handle. you linger there, two hands holding you up just,

breathing.

you’re allowed to breathe here, and you’re allowed to tip your head back and look at the ceiling.

you need to feel something other than the remembrance of blood spatter hitting your face. or the way it feels when your fist connects with flesh and bone. you want to be touched, and you want memories of the day to be replaced by the memories of being wanted, of being held and loved and cared for.

you don’t always want like this after an op, but today,

tonight you want the gentle. tonight you need to feel.

but no one else is home yet. you’re the first, so you move with practiced motions, letting autopilot guide you to the balcony doors, pushing them open. you turn the bluetooth speaker on and left soft music filter from your phone - lots of piano and guitar and other string instruments.  it keeps you calm as layer by layer you shed the day.

first your boots, sitting on the edge of couch, working the knots out with nimble fingers. kicking them off and moving them to the kitchen.

you’ll clean them later.

for now you walk across the hardwood floor in your socks, step up and then sink down on the bed. you’re slipping out of your pants, your socks, your shirt. they pool at your feet and usually where you would pick them up, drop them in the laundry basket in the corner.

tonight you do not.

they can wait for a moment where bending down doesn’t feel like it will require all of your strength.

instead you’re walking to the bathroom, closing, locking the door behind you. letting the shower get steaming hot before you step under the spray. the water running across your body makes you hiss, it makes you brace one hand against the tiled wall because apparently there were some scratches that you’d missed.

turning now you see them at the small of your back. you see water running pink around your feet and you force yourself to take a breath.

everyone is alive.

everyone made it.

it’s okay.

it’s two more deep breaths before you can reach for the shampoo, and god, it’s times like these where your body aches and you wish someone was home. not because you need the help,

but again,

you need to feel.

lucy’s hands in your hair, washing it for you. or maggie washing your body, letting you lean into her as much as you need.

you know they’ll be home soon enough, but still. you do it all on your own, washing your hands, your face, trying to get the grime of violence off your body. it takes time, and your body is pink and a little raw when you step out,

but you feel clean.

there’s a weight that’s easing itself from your shoulders as you slip into sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt. comfort clothes that get shared between you and maggie and lucy with ease.

[most of the time anyway, lucy swims in this shirt]

you haven’t opened the door but you hear that someone is home. from the footsteps you guess it’s lucy. and when you do finally open the door, you see that you’re right., and you see that lucy has changed.

“hey,” she says softly, walking over from where she was spiraling sweet potato.

she rocks onto her toes to kiss you, her hands coming down your ribs to settle on your hips.

“maggie’s going to be home soon.” she says, and you know she can read your exhaustion, that she can feel it coming off you in waves “sit,” she says “i’ve got dinner.”

“but it’s my night.” you reply quietly, protesting only a little.

lucy smiles, even as she’s guiding you to the couch “i’ve got this.” she replies, pressing a kiss to your temple.

you sit, sinking into the softness, taking the blanket lucy passes you.

“hey,” you say, reaching for lucy’s hand as she starts to walk back to the potatotes.

“mmm?” lucy hums, turning back to you, allowing you to pull her into another kiss.

“thank you.” you whisper,

but what you’re kissing into her lips is

/i love you/

and lucy knows.

you know she knows because she’s cooking dinner when it’s your night to. and she’s humming along to your soft classical music even though lucy basically hates it. and when maggie comes home, the food is ready and she’s shedding her jacket, her badge. her gun getting locked away.

“smells amazing luce,” maggie says, walking over to lucy with a smile and a kiss, lingering there for a moment peering into the wok where it’s all vegetables and peanut sauce.

you watch them happily, reading your book. or not reading it, but staring at the same page whilst listening to the apartment. letting the sounds of the present keep the near past at bay.

and when maggie comes to you, sinking down onto the couch with a ginger beer in one hand, she runs her other across your blanketed shins “heard you had a big day.” she says with a seeking smile.

you swallow hard, closing your book without folding the page and reach for maggie’s hand. she laces your fingers and waits as you say “we got everyone back.”

gently maggie lifts the flat of your palm to her lips and she kisses you gently, she says “i’m so proud of you babygirl.” and you grip her hand harder.

maggie shifts and stands and she’s swiping loose strand of hair behind your ear, she’s kissing your forehead “come eat.” she says, and god,

she knows.

like lucy knows.

and alex knows they know what she needs because once the dishes are washed and dried and put away. once the leftovers are in tupperware containers, you’re body is keening for them. for their touch.

because there’s only so much of the violence water can wash away, but their hands? their mouths?  

“can we-“ you’re asking “i-“ you’re starting and lucy’s hand is on the small of your back.

“anything you want.” she says, her voice low, her voice full of fire and heat and -

you’re kissing her.

your hands finding her hair, tongue swiping across her lower lip and lucy is parting her lips, giving what you’re asking for.

“please.” you murmur, whispering against her jaw.

and it’s mange’s hand over lucy’s on the small of your back, and it’s their voices in the dark, together, saying

“we’ve got you.”

because they do.

and all you know next is that you’re on your back. that you’re on the bed. that it’s lucy asking “colour?”

and the question cuts through the soft haze you’d fallen into, pulls a response from your lips. where it’s “yellow.” you murmur, and the reaction is soft, the reaction is instantaneous.

it’s maggie sitting up, a hand coming to the small of your back and it’s lucy kneeling in front of you,

no pressure,

just letting you breathe and asking gently “what do you need babe?”

“just,” you start, looking between them “just you two? please? i just,” you swallow hard “i want to feel you both.”

maggie’s hand is soft, and lucy’s hand comes to your knee and maggie who says gently, gently “anything you want.”

and lucy who’s asking “can i kiss you?”

and

“colour?”

and you’re green, easing back down onto your back, you’re so, so green. because you’re with your girls and they’ve got you.

they’ve got you.

you can lose yourself to maggie’s fingers at the hem of your shirt and lucy kissing you. you surrender your body to them happily, happily.

and tonight, your eyes flutter shut when maggie kisses your hips and lucy has a finger and thumb rolling a nipple between them -

tonight they do not ask for you to keep them open.

tonight lucy kisses your neck, tonight lucy replaces her fingers with her mouth and your hips are arching into maggie’s mouth.

tonight they’re barely asking anything of you,

just checking in when you whimper and god, you pant

“green, green, green” voice lilting into a whine because maggie has two fingers in you and they’re curled and still and god she feels so good.

“tell us,” lucy says, and the command is barely there in her voice and you whine again, rocking your hips up

“please,” you whimper, opening your eyes, meeting lucy’s eyes first, then looking down to maggie.

maggie who’s got her mouth just about your clit. so close you can feel her breath, feel how it makes your hips twitch and your hands grasp at bedsheets.

and tonight that please,

the simple word,

is all it takes. maggie’s tongue flicks over your clit, her fingers move in easy synchronicity. and lucy, her fingers tracing patterns down your ribs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in her wake - and the way she kisses you -

senseless.

absolutely senseless.

your mind can’t keep up with the sensations of fingers and mouths and god,

just before you come, when your hips are moving disjointedly, seeking that touch. when you have a hand in maggie’s hair and a hand tangled with one of lucys,

your body is alive with /feeling/.

your blood rushing.

your skin on fire.

there is no room for conscious thought.

and yet you’re safe. you’re protected. you’re loved.

and when you come -

head tipped back, back arched, neck exposed and being kissed gently, gently -

it shatters you in the best way. falling apart under them, for them, around them.

it takes long seconds for you to realize there are tears. to realize that it’s lucy’s thumbs swiping across your cheeks and it’s maggie’s hand on your ribs as she pulls a blanket up over the three of you.

where you’re curling away them both, turning your head into the pillow because you’re embarrassed. because they just gave you everything you asked for, the best orgasm of your life

and you’re /crying./

it’s stupid.

it’s emotional.

it’s -

“it’s okay to let yourself feel.” maggie is saying quietly, her hand coming to stroke your back, coaxing you to roll over.

you do, eventually.

it takes a moment longer for you to be able to meet either of their gazes. even before you manage that, lucy is pressing a kiss to your forehead, saying “it’s okay. you’re okay.”

and you are,

but you’re still crying because,

well,

you don’t need a reason to cry.

[they taught you that]

but today was long and today was scary and you didn’t almost die,

but still.

you let it out.

and you let them hold you.

and on another night you would want to reciprocate. you would feel the urge to kiss and to draw orgasms from both your girlfriends.

not tonight. and even as you mumble apologies,

they’re hushing you.

maggie stroking your hair, lucy finding clothes. it’s a slow dance of getting dressed, rearranging in bed and you’re going - going,

almost gone when you hear maggie ask gently, her hand still in your hair “you mind if we have netflix on?” and all you can do is shake your head.

of course you don’t mind.

so you’re falling asleep to the sounds of bob’s burgers and you’re girlfriends murmuring about their days, happily settled between them and god,

you feel.


	46. sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sanvers + come back to bed

_come back to bed_ maggie says softly, her voice a light in the dark, her hands a welcome pressure sliding along your thighs. 

you turn, one hand wrapped around a glass of water _did i wake you?_ you ask, bringing a hand to the small of her back, widening your legs to maggie can step between them. so her hips can press against your knees and her hands can come to your ribs. 

 _no_ she replies, and you think it’s not quite a lie, but not quite the truth either - like perhaps maggie rolled over and reached out with a hand to touch you 

[she does this sometimes, reassuring herself - even in sleep - of your presence] 

and when her hand was met only with half cold and empty sheets, a deeper part of herself was roused from slumber. a deeper part of herself pushed a sheet back from across her body, tugged the nearest shirt on over her frame and padded across the hardwood floor, across the rug, to you. you imagine this all, of course. but you think you’re right. you know maggie, after all. 

 _you okay babygirl?_ she asks, voice soft, words crossing the inches between you easily. 

they loosen something in your chest and a sigh escapes before you can stop it. you feel her eyes on you, studying you in the quite dark of your kitchen, taking in the way your back can’t quite relax, the way you shift on the stool ever so slightly. 

maggie’s gaze does not make demands of you, not right now. you feel her watch, you let her observe and when you’re ready you ask quietly 

_hold me?_

and she does. 

without question, without yet coaxing you to bed. maggie murmurs _of course_ and then it’s her arms wrapping around you, pulling you close. and you? you’re collapsing quietly, forehead pressing against her collarbone. letting yourself take steadying breaths where all you can smell is maggie, and her shampoo, and the laundry detergent she’s so particular about. 

all you feel for long, long, easy minutes is the strength of maggie’s arms around you, her hands pressing into your back, keeping you close, keeping you safe. 

you’re not sure why you needed this, 

on tonight of all nights, 

only that when she stood there before you, you recognized safe harbor in her arms from the storms raging inside you. and here you are, safe, and warm, with maggie’s lips brushing against your temple. and for now, that’s all that matters. 


	47. sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> used a random sentence generator to come up with the sentence 
> 
> ‘don’t step on broken glass’

you wake up from a nightmare with fire in your veins, fear in your heart and the need to /run/. so you do, so you are. slipping and sliding out of bed, hand pushing your stumbling form away from the wall, towards a door.

you know it’s a bedroom door, but the nightmare is still high and fresh in your mind - consuming what senses you have alert right now. where it’s not a bedroom door,  it’s a door that’s trapping you, holding you.

it’s a door that’s containing you, trapping you. the world does not make sense, not when you are in this in between space of haunting reality.

somewhere it registers that you’re in maggie’s living room. with the muffled sounds of a city alive through the open window. you feel a breeze shifting through the apartment and again,

part of your mind is registering the distinct lack of a clear and present danger.

but also,

there are alarm ins your head, there is the shattering of glass and there is the seizing of your body because you have done terrible, terrible things. things that haunt you, things that, upon nights like tonight,

own you.

there’s a hitching sound.

you spin wildly, trying to track the movement of a shadow. a shadow that is moving slowly, moving deliberately. a shadow that is talking with calm and steady words.

“ _alex_ ,” the voice is saying “ _alex you’re okay. you’re safe. you’re home. you’re in my kitchen_.”

there is no rushing in the voice - but it’s familiar,

it drags you away from the deeper darkness, away from the echoing cries of the people you’ve hurt.

you swallow hard.

your head is fuzzy, and again, this voice saying

“ _can you open your hand for me alex? can you do that?_ ”

so you do,

and you are, because apparently your body trusts the voice even when your head is still playing catch up.

the cold bites you. and your hand clenches tighter because the memories can not compare to the stinging cold of ice in your hand. ice given to you by maggie.

maggie who is stepping closer, slowly, asking

“can i hold your hand?”

and yes,

yes she can.

you’re reaching and maggie is giving and you’ve got her warmth in one hand, ice melting in the other and you’re breathing, ragged. it echoes in the kitchen space, where there is glitter on the floor, where maggie is saying gently

“don’t step on the broken glass babe.”

because you knocked, threw, or otherwise destroyed a glass in the throws of your panic.

but maggie isn’t mad. she is leading you to the couch, she’s turning on the tv - muted at first until she can set up a soft, easy movie. and even after, the volume on low,

the ice in your hand gone and you, drawn to her warmth. mumbling an apology against her chest,  and maggie replying, with steadfast sureness,

“it’s just a glass, there are more glasses. there’s only one you.”


	48. kara/lena

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "oh my god you're in love with her"

it’s maggie who figures it out.

who sees the way kara looks at lena -

[not just when it’s kara and lena at game night  

although there’s something to be said about how protective kara was at lena’s first game night. how determined she was to make sure that lena was welcome and that she was wanted.

and she was, wanted. right up until she kicked everyones ass at mariokart.]

but when it’s lena in danger and it’s supergirl with a dangerous look in her eye. the one that reminds maggie of the facts wherein kara has lost so much,

and refuses to lose any more.

especially not lena.

it’s that moment where lena is in danger - where lena could be killed and there is a moment of single, unrestrained fury that flashes in kara’s, eyes and that’s when maggie figures it out.

because kara,

she protects the whole earth with a projected ease that constantly amazes maggie. and kara, she protects her friends without compromising her morals.

but for her family. for alex danvers and, apparently,

lena luthor,

kara will do anything. and anything,

when it comes to a girl from krypton, who has sun enhanced powers and a depth of rage that spurs from losing /everything/ -

maggie learned a while ago that what kara is capable of will always, always be for more than anyone could be prepared for.

so she follows kara into the fight. with alex in her ear saying nothing short of

“what the hell are you doing?”

because in this moment kara is nigh unstoppable.

and the fools who kidnapped a luthor were not prepared for the onslaught that is a no holds bars supergirl.

which is why maggie follows.

she takes out men before supergirl can, and when,

finally,

with a building trembling in their [supergirls] wake,

when they [she]  find lena. it is with a gun to lean’s head and the calm acceptance of her fate sits so serenely in lena’s eyes as she says

“don’t do it kara.”

it meaning kill. it meaning take a life.

but kara would, kara is ready to.

but maggie knows kara would never forgive herself.

so maggie cross that line instead. she takes a single shot, and she kills.

so kara doesn’t have to.

[the thank you will come later. in the deo as alex is tending to lena’s minor injuries. kara as supergirl standing outside the medical bay, arms folded around her waist

“you killed a man.” she says quietly.

“i did.” you nod.

“why?”

“because you’re in love with her.” you reply, and you feel kara turn to look at you “i saw the way you looked,” you say “when you heard she was taken.”

“i-“

“don’t worry little danvers,” you say easily “your secret is safe with me.” and then alex is waving kara in and you’re putting a hand on her shoulder as you turn away “go see your girl.”

“thank you.” is all kara says. is all she needs to say.]


	49. director sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Have you slept?" + director Sanvers

“luce,” alex says quietly - so she doesn’t startle lucy who’s been so valiantly sitting at maggie’s bedside since she came out of emergency surgery “have you slept yet?”

lucy turns looking up at alex and that’s enough to answer the question. she’s in the same clothes she was a day ago - when maggie was admitted.

[a day ago when alex was running deo recruits through a simulated hostile den takeover at the desert base. who had no incoming coms of any kind. who didn’t know something was wrong until kara burst in.]

her eyes are red rimmed and there are deep thumbprint shadows under her eyes. her hand grips at the railing of maggie’s bed “alex,” lucy chokes.

and alex is pulling lucy to her feet. taking lucy into her ams, and lucy melts, forehead pressing against alex’s chest, hands curling around alex. and alex, who’s in her training gear, nothing that says deo of course, but changing her shirt was all she had time for in the wake of kara saying, with wide eyes

“it’s maggie.”

so lucy is crying and gripping at alex and alex is trying not to feel guilty because she should have had her phone. she should have had her phone. instead she didn’t and lucy had to wait here all night, alone, in the waiting room of a hospital while maggie underwent emergency surgery.

“lucy,” alex is whispering “lucy she’s going to be okay. i talked to the nurse, maggie’s going to be okay. i promise.”

[and sure, talked is a nice word for what you’d done. pulling out her fbi badge will probably be frowned upon later, but she doesn't care.]

lucy may have heard alex, but hours of stress and fear were pent up, and now,

now with alex’s arms around her,

she’s crumbling.

but only because alex will catch her and all her pieces. alex  who is smoothing a hand through lucy’s hair, and who is damn near tears herself. because god,

god,

the line of duty is one thing.

but making dinner, and keeling over in pain? pain she’d no doubt been hiding all day?

crying out in pain and vomiting and clutching at her abdomen as lucy had to basically carry her to the car?

[told all of this by kara - who drove alex’s bike, with alex clinging to her]

“i’m going to kill her.” lucy mumbles into alex’s chest some time later.

“get in line.” alex replies softly, “but lucy,” lucy looks up at her “she’s going to be okay.”

lucy nods, “she scared me.”

“i know.” alex agrees, stepping back and slipping out of her jacket, gesturing to the couch “get some sleep.” she instructs

“and you?” lucy asks “when was the last time you slept?”

alex just smiles, putting her jacket around lucy’s shoulders “i’m going to find you some blankets.”

and when alex comes back, lucy is curled on the couch - asleep already. so alex tucks her in, with blankets absconded from the nurses station.


	50. alex/lucy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and Lucy for number 1, please? 
> 
> "oh my god, you're in love with her."

kara is the one who says,

“oh my god,” loud enough to make alex jump, and then adds, with a hushed forced whisper “you’re in love with her.”

to which alex, eyes wide and adrenaline racing from her little sister shouting anything in the first place,

can only blush,

can only stammer,

can only pause the game of mariokart she’s got up on the screen and turn to look over her shoulder at kara “how-?” she starts “what even?”

because the thing is,

kara is correct. alex is in love with lucy. but as far as alex is aware, there is nothing with in

sitting on the couch cursing rainbow fucking road,

that should give kara that impression. super powers or no super powers. so alex is a little confused. a little weary because kara is looking at her with bright eyes and a wide smile and she’s bouncing on her toes in that way she does when she’s really, really happy.

“you’re in love with her.” she repeats “lucy, you’re in love with her.”

and all alex can splutter in her response is “yes, yeah okay? i - what makes you - i was playing mariokart?”

it’s more of a question than a comment because alex is still lost and kara is still happy and smiling and maybe alex is grinning too because she likes kara this happy.

“you were playing mariokart,” kara says as a means of explanation,

“and?” alex asks, more confused than ever at this point.

“and last week at game night you let lucy use your controller. plus you let her take toad. which you sometimes let me do, but only when i’m not feeling well. but lucy wasn’t sick, she wasn’t even post-dc weird. she was happy, and you were bowser.”

alex laughs “so you could tell i’m in love with my girlfriend because i let her use my controller?”

“and let her be toad.”

“and let her be toad.” alex adds, nodding seriously.

“it may or may not also have to do with the ring you’ve got in the medicine cabinet.” kara says casually, flopping down onto the couch, and alex can hear the smile in her voice “that’s not really a good hiding place,” she continues “considering how often the both of you get injured.”

“the first aid kit is under the sink. lucy will never look in the medicine cabinet.”

kara raises an eyebrow skeptically.

alex sighs “it was the best hiding place i could think of.” she grumbles.

“you literally work for a secret government agency,” kara points out, “you have a gun taped under the coffee table, and one under your mattress but somehow couldn’t come up with a better place to hide an engagement ring than the medicine cabinet?”

“where would you recommend then?” alex asks “enlighten me with all your wisdom.”

a pillow hits her in the head.

“and for the record,” alex turns, launching the pillow back in kara’s direction “the fortress of solitude does not count.”


	51. sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you do Sanvers + "you're going to make it. Just stay awake" ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright y’all here’s how this goes - 
> 
> technically this is more than 500 word. however, everything above the first * is 500 words exactly. but, i don’t kill main character in my writing, 
> 
> so i kept going. fair warning, this is angsty as all hell. 
> 
> tw: people nearly dying

“there’s a ring-“ is how you start the conversation you expect to be your last.

“ _shut up._ ” alex replies, but there are tears in her voice and you can hear them - can imagine the tears making her eyes shine, the way her jaw trembles as she fights for a steadying breath “ _don’t tell me this_.” she begs.

but you have to.

you have to because you need her to know - you need alex danvers to know she is the love of your life.

you need her to know that even if you die in the back of vasquez’s deo issue suv, the last thing - the last idea on your mind as you took your final breath

was her.

so you summon the energy, despite the small eternity of agony it takes to even utter so much as a syllable, you summon the energy to push past alex’s tears in your ear.

you tell her,

“there’s a ring,” and you only get those words into the open for a second time when a spasm of pain seizes your entire body. your back arches up off the seat, a hand you can’t quite feel reaches out against the seat in front and you keep yourself from sliding onto the floor.

it costs you.

your next words are ragged.

“kara,” you panting, your forcing words through gritted teeth “she knows where it is.”

because you’d asked her to help you pick. because kara’s eyes had lit up and she’d pulled you into a hug and she had said things like ‘yes’ and ‘of course’ and later, when you dropped her off at her apartment - as she stuck her head back in the window of the car, kara had said ‘love you mags.’

just like that.

so kara knows where the ring is.

“it’s yours,” you say, unable to fight back the groan, the whimper of pain “if you want it.”

and alex, she’s sobbing and she’s saying through choked breaths “ _you proposing to me sawyer?_ ”

you suppose you are. although you didn’t quite picture it going down like this. you had plans,

plans you’re fairly sure you’ll never actually be able to put into motion.

you’re pretty sure you’re going to die back here, getting blood and tears across vasquez’s seats.

“al,” you say, a labored breath carrying most of the syllable through your chest and into the air “al, you -“

“ _don’t_.” alex is crying “d _on’t, please you’re going to be okay and you’re going to tell me this to my face_.”

but you don’t think you will.

and you need her to know.

so you say, through pain, through suffering because alex danvers is worth it - because alex danvers needs to know how loved she is, how loved by you she is.

“you’re the best thing in my life al,” you say, all in one breath “you’re,” you struggle, it takes an eon to breathe “you’re everything to me.”

you exhale.

you’re crying.

you’re going to die but at least alex knows.

*

you do not die.

or to be precise, you - maggie sawyer - are legally and technically dead for thirteen seconds.

but you are brought back to life.

*

of dying, and the subsequent coming back to life - you remember nothing.

your last memory of before is that of alex’s hand on your face and if you’re honest,

you will never know if’s a memory at all. or if in that moment, when you were fading into the black and all you heard was a distant and desperate

_‘you’re going to make it. just stay awake’_

you think you may have imagined alex was there, with you.

but either way, your first memory of after -

after apparently dying

after apparently being shocked back to life -

is alex. her hand in yours, her shoulders shaking with sobs. kara’s hand on alex’s back. you feel nothing,

floaty actually,

but you feel nothing, ground only by alex’s hand in yours. so you summon energy from reserves you knew not existed,

and you squeeze her hand.

you’ll be okay.


	52. sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanvers and "Have you slept?" [post 2x19]

you sit in bed with knees pulled to your chest, arms wrapped around shins. you press your chin into the tops of your knees and watch, almost unblinkingly, alex sleeping. every time you close your eyes you see her body suspended there, you see her floating, you hear the silence - 

and in these waking nightmares,

kara shatters the glass and it’s not fast enough. with your eyes closed alex did not survive, you were too late, you were too slow. so -

you sit awake. with your chin resting against your knees, trying to ignore the shaking in your hands as they grip at forearms. you try and ignore the way your eyes are watering and you try to fight off the way you’re _exhausted._ but you can’t close your eyes, 

so you can’t sleep. 

instead, 

you sit, and you move a hand from around yourself and let your fingers - your trembling fingers - card some stray hair behind alex’s ear. you don’t want to wake her, but you need to touch her. you need to feel that alex is here and alex is warm and alex is alive and is 

finally, 

finally, 

asleep. and even sitting next to her, listening to her breathing - it’s not enough to calm your fears. the fear that is not so easily forgotten now that alex is curled next to you in bed. 

so you sit, with a hand curled around alex’s shoulder, fingers resting against her pulse. and then you hear it, 

the soft padding of footsteps coming down the hall towards your bedroom. you know, with all likelyhood, who it is. who it should be. but still, you take no chances, shifting in bed so your body is more directly between alex and the door. you pull your gun from the bedside table and level it - watching how your hands steady as the adrenaline spikes. 

a single knock. 

a quiet 

“maggie, it’s just - it’s me.” 

and you murmur, gently, gently “come in.” because it’s kara. of course it’s only kara.  

kara who hugged alex for nearly an hour at the deo, who cried into her big sisters shoulder. who stepped away with “you two need-” and “i can give you space.” 

disappearing before alex, or you, could coax her into coming home. into coming back here. 

except here she is now. looking windswept and small, pale and scared in the fraction of moonlight escaping through your parted curtains“have you slept?” she mumbles, adding “I’m sorry. i’m sorry.” like 

you’re shaking you head and you’re pulling kara into your arms, letting yourself be hugged with an almost crushing force. your moving a hand up and down kara’s back as she cries softly, as she mumbles and hiccups about trying to sleep, but she couldn’t hear alex’s heartbeat just right. 

and all you can say is “of course you’re welcome. of course you can stay.” 

because you’re all family now. alex, the goddamn love of your life. kara, the little sister you never thought you would have. they’re your family. and after today, 

after seeing alex, in that tank. seeing the fear in her eyes, 

family needs to be together. so you coax kara from your clothes. you find her something that isn’t her supergirl suit. you find her something soft and worn and alex’s. 

and then you’re sinking into bed. and you looking across at kara who seems to be having a moment of indecision, so you say quietly, 

“get in here kara,” nodding to the bed.

into which kara collapses and she rolls closer to alex. and she looks across to you, and you 

god you’re bone tired. 

and kara looks exhausted. 

and alex? she’s warm and safe and asleep. 

and that’s enough, for now, for tonight. having alex alive between you. 

that’s enough. 


	53. kara/lena

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kara/lena + "Hii!! Hey, could you do a fic with Kara x Lena + "How long have you been standing there?" ? Thanks!! :)"

kara stands on her balcony in the middle of a thunderstorm. she feels the thunder roll through her body and the lightening that rips through the sky on any other night would be electric. tonight all kara cares about is the rain. standing stock still, letting it soak through her clothes.

kara stands on her balcony with her eyes closed in the middle of a thunderstorm because she can’t.

not right now.

it’s been a little over a week since alex was taken, since alex was tortured and nearly killed.

and this is the first night that kara has tried to sleep in her own apartment. but the storm rolled in and kara can’t.

she’s standing on the balcony listening to the storm and the beating of alex’s heart some distance away.

[kara hears it, fast and scared. she hears maggies too - steady.]

[she does not hear the heartbeat behind her, so focused is she on those across the city]

“ _kara_ ,” comes a voice “ _how long have you been standing there?_ ”

it takes a long second for kara to connect the voice to a physical presence behind her.

“ _lena_ ,” kara chokes “ _i-_ ” she starts, turning around to see lena standing just inside the balcony doors. and it’s the look in her eyes that uproots kara from her space in the storm.

[lena, standing in kara’s apartment - looking for all the world like she belongs there. part of kara assumes she used the key given to lena. the one lena took with such hesitancy, the one she was barely sure she deserved. yet here she is, gentle and worried and patiently waiting] 

and it’s lena asking again, asking gently “ _kara_ ,” as she, with a towel procured from kara’s hallway closet “ _how long have you been standing there?_ ” lena murmurs, bringing the towel around kara’s shoulders.

“ _i don’t know_.” kara replies, the towel around her shoulders feels heavier than it shoulder “ _how did you know?_ ” she asks.

kara lets herself stand still as lena moves behind her, closing and locking the balcony doors. she lets herself be guided to the bathroom. and it’s only here, with the door ajar and lena standing just behind kara, that there is a response

“ _i daresay i know you,_ ” lena replies gently, her hands pulling away the towel “ _you’re soaking_.”

“ _i don’t feel it._ ” kara replies, because she doesn’t, right now she feels - well,

“ _i know_ ,” lena replies, and there is no scolding in her voice - not like there probably should be.

alien or not, standing on ones own balcony in the middle of a thunderstorm is probably not recommended.

“ _can i get you dry clothes?_ ” lena asks quietly, waiting long enough for kara to nod, before she moves.

and kara waits, standing, dripping in her bathroom as lena disappears from sight and it feels like only a moment before she’s slipping into the bathroom again. clothes over one arm. another towel in the other.

“ _can you_ ,” kara starts, because she may not be cold but her hands are shaking, and her thoughts are chasing the sounds of the rain hitting the pavement, hitting the building, hitting the water.

her thoughts are chasing the sounds and wondering if this is what it sounded like for alex.

or was it worse?

kara assumes it was worse, and the same chasing of her tail that left her standing in the rain on the balcony, ramps up here and now. where she feels but doesn’t notice lena slipping her out of wet clothes. she feels but doesn’t really register the towel, the dry clothes, not until lena’s fingers are at her chin and her voice breaks through the haze

“ _kara_ ,” and “ _darling, can you look at me?_ ”

so kara does, because lena asked,

and it’s a breath of fresh air. her eyes are concerned and they are clear and they are an anchor.

“ _bed?_ ”

and all kara can do is nod, because right now,

with too many words and not enough,

when her mind is still caught and chasing, caught on the words

my fault, my fault, it’s all my fault.

and remembering alex’s body, floating there - still and lifeless and kara steps forward, pressing herself into lena’s arms. into her touch.

where she is guided to bed, and lena is gentle, and lena doesn’t leave her side for a moment. because the time for words is tomorrow, for now it’s about being present and being here, and

“ _thank you_ ” kara mumbles, voice thick with tears an emotions, into lena’s shoulder.

and lena, so relived that showing up was the right thing to do, that letting herself in was the right thing to do, that pulling kara from the storms of present and of those in her head - so relieved that she’s doing this right, 

simply pulls kara closer to her, presses a kiss to her forehead and murmurs “ _rest”_ and “ _i will be here when you wake.”_

because she will be. and kara knows it. 


	54. director sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> director sanvers + "Any lucy centric director Sanvers stuff floating around my good pal?""

[12:27am] lucy to _home_ : what kind of pizza place closes after midnight? in washington dc of all places? i don’t understand. 

[12:28am] lucy to _home:_ i miss you guys. 

[12:32am] maggie to _home_ : livinonaprayer.mp3

[12:33 am] lucy to _home_ : you’re not funny 

[12:34 am] alex to _home_ : you should see her, she thinks she’s hilarious

[12:36 am] lucy to _home_ : how long have you been waiting to send me that?

[12:37 am] maggie to _home_ : how long do you think? 

[12:38 am] lucy to _home:_ three days. 

[12:40 am] maggie to _home:_ dingdingding. 

[12:41 am]alex to _home_ : she’s had a post-it on the fridge reminding her.

[12:43 am] lucy to _home_ : nerd.

[12:45 am] maggie to _home_ : it’s funny and you both know it. stop ganging up on me.

[12:47 am] maggie to _home_ : anyway three more days then you’re home for a week.

[12:49 am] lucy to _home_ : counting down the days.

[12:49 am] lucy to _home_ : i love you guys. 

**incoming phone call from maggie sawyer**

“ _hey there,”_ maggie’s voice comes in clear over the line, and then alex’s 

“ _you eat yet?”_

 _“_ yeah,” lucy sighs “leftover chinese. is that bon jovi?” 

lucy can practically hear maggie’s smirk as the music cuts in the background “ _you’re halfway there._ ” is all maggie has to say for herself. 

 _“_ it’s still too long _.”_ lucy says,  there a pause and then “could we,” she starts, 

stops.

“nevermind.” lucy says, a little embarrassed “it’s nothing.” 

“ _c’mon,”_ maggie says gently “ _what’s up?”_

there’s a long pause and then, 

 _“_ i miss you guys,” lucy whispers. 

“ _two seconds.”_ maggie says, and then the line goes dead. 

lucy’s phone vibrates a moment later, as the facetime request comes up. she smiles because of course, 

of course they know. 

she answers and there’s a moment where she can’t see anything but herself in the little box in the corner. then a jolt of noise and replacing the black screen is alex and maggie. they’re both smiling at her, and lucy feels the tension along her spine drop considerably just by seeing their faces.

“hi.” she breaths. 

“hey,” alex says, and then maggie, 

“tough day, babygirl?” 

lucy lets out a long breath and nods. but she can’t say anything else, not without the swell of emotions caught in her throat getting the better of her. 

“why don’t,” alex starts “why don’t you get in bed?” she suggests “I know you have to be up early.” 

“we’ll talk you to sleep?” maggie suggest.

and god, lucy nods because she didn’t even know that was exactly what she wanted until it’s what’s happening. until she’s climbing under the sheets and pulling the duvet back up. until she’s propping her phone up on some pillows and settling herself down. 

all the while her girlfriends are talking, about their days, about kara’s shenanigans. and lucy comments a little, but mostly she lays there, with her eyes closed, 

letting the sounds of her girlfriends voices ease the stress from her system, letting their banter and their soft laughs coax her to sleep.

where the last things she really hears are 

“i love you luce.” 

and 

“sleep tight luce.”

and she does. 


	55. director sanvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> director sanvers + "Please could we have some director sanvers + alcoholic Alex if you have a moment? I'm having a whole load of fun with these fucking cravings and really need some good ol comfort fic rn"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here you go dear anon, to get you through the cravings. you’re so strong. 
> 
> tw: alcoholism

they find you at the bar. 

they find you at the bar where you’ve been sitting for the past two hours, silently staring down two fingers of untouched of whisky. it’s not a regular haunt, not a place where m’gann knows better than to pour when you come asking for something that burns, something with will ease the pain of the day. 

no, 

this is a bar filled with people who have no idea what you’ve done today. the lives of the people in your unit that you almost lost or anything else. in here you are anonymous, you are just another person sitting at the bar. which is what you wanted when you showed up, when you parked your bike, when you strode in the door and asked for a drink.

between placing your order and having it pushed across the slightly sticky countertop, 

something had shifted. 

the insistent demand for a drink - for drinks - is still there. it makes your fingers itch, your throat feels dry no matter how much water you drink. and god, staring down at the whisky, you palm the glass, you pick it up, feel the weight in your hand. 

it would be so easy to just, 

_drink._

after the day you’ve had, hell, you can justify this. but therein is the problem, you can justify one, but not the five, six or seven that inevitably would come after. 

so instead, you stare at the glass. you ignore your ringing phone, and send a text that says 

_i’m fine_

which is not true, but what you’re saying is 

‘i have not been kidnapped and locked in a tank and left to die’ 

although in this moment, you feel just as trapped, just as helpless. you want the drink, you want ten drinks. you want the whole damn bottle. and all that’s stopping you is some shred of, 

something. 

you don’t even know what it is that has been stopping you from tossing back the drink and ordering another. 

and another. 

except then, like the tank - with it’s similar suffocations - you are saved. 

there’s a hand around your shoulders and theres a 

“babygirl,” 

and 

“oh alex,”

and your shoulders are caving in and you’re saying “i didn’t drink it. i bought it, but i didn’t drink it.” 

because you don’t want them to be any more disappointed than you already are. you don’t want them to think that you broke, that you relapsed. and you see maggie pushing the glass away. you know that she must be feeling how it’s room temperature, warm from your touch even. 

evidence. 

“i just,” you sigh, leaning into the arm wrapped around your shoulders and smelling lucy’s perfume “i wanted it. i thought i wanted it.” 

“wanting it and drinking it.” maggie says gently as you’re standing “are two different things babe.” 

“and we’re so proud of you for not drinking it.” lucy reaffirms. 

and kara drove. or at least she’s sitting in the drivers seat of the car and you’re raising an eyebrow but all kara says is 

“shush.” and “put your seatbelt on.” 

and thank god its nearly one am because the streets are empty and kara drives, while you’re squished in the backseat between maggie and lucy. who keep saying quietly how proud of you they are. how much they love you. 

and it doesn’t compute.

you had the drink right there. you ordered it. you started it down in some monumental game of chicken. a game wherein the inanimate object blinked first. 

you were weak, 

and yet they love you anyway. 

you were weak and kara is pulling you into a hug, holding you tight, saying she loves you. you were weak and you’re being walked upstairs, coaxed into a shower, into comfortable clothes. 

 _i was weak_ , you say, you blurt curled in bed between your girls and their response is immediate, is steadfast 

_no, babe, no, you were strong._

**Author's Note:**

> here's how it's going to work: 
> 
> i've got thirty something prompts from my tumblr that i will be cross posting, so if you follow me there - this is nothing new. however i'm going to post one a day until i'm caught up. 
> 
> [mostly because i'm lazy and don't want to format all these prompts all at once]
> 
> chapter titles will give the main pairing [also if it feat. nb!alex danvers - shown w/ nb!ad] 
> 
> feel free to send me more prompts @ [onefootone](http://www.onefootone.tumblr.com)


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